Tectonic Doom
by paganpunk2
Summary: Dick and Tim head out for a week of brotherly bonding in the wilderness only to find themselves caught up in a scheme to put humanity on the 'extinct' list. T for language and frightening situations.
1. Chapter 1

Red Robin stood sixty-seven stories above Gotham and stared moodily out at the city. As much as he loved the insane, mesmerizing metropolis he'd been born in, on nights like this one all he wanted to do was run far, far away from it. There was no rhyme or reason to his occasional fits of discontent, at least not that he'd ever been able to discern. They simply came, lingered, and then went, leaving him with a vague feeling that something was missing.

Before he could chase that unknown something down its familiar rabbit-hole, a faint rustle gave away a presence behind him. "Hey," he murmured, knowing who it was without needing to look. Batman would have been silent until he was right next to him, and Robin wouldn't have bothered coming close to begin with; only Nightwing was kind enough to give his allies a warning of his approach when they appeared to be in thought.

The voice that answered verified his deduction. "Hey." A moment later they were elbow-to-elbow. "...Nice night, huh?"

"Eh. Sure." It was, but he wasn't feeling it.

"Runaway vibes," the older man said contemplatively.

"Huh?!" Red Robin tore his eyes away from the lights to look at the new arrival. "What...what did you say?"

"I said, 'runaway vibes.' You're giving them off again. That's all."

"Oh. I...I didn't realize it was that obvious," he sighed. "Shit."

"You've been doing it every three months or so for, oh, the last...two years? Two and a half? Somewhere in there."

"Is it _that_ regular?" He shook his head, perturbed at himself. "I can't believe I didn't notice."

"It's hard to see the outside of the box you're standing in, little brother. That's what you keep me around for." Grinning, Nightwing nudged him. Red Robin's lip twitched upward, but his amusement was feigned. "...Maybe you need a vacation. Go lay on a beach for a couple of weeks, see if that helps."

"That sounds atrocious." He tried to picture himself on a sunny strip of sand, surrounded by beautiful people with whom he had nothing in common other than net worth, and shuddered. A completely secluded get-away wouldn't be much better, he realized with mild surprise; he wasn't aiming to be alone. But if he didn't want that, and he didn't want to be with others, then what the hell _did_ he want?

Unable to answer that question and well aware that the figure beside him would become more concerned if they stayed on the topic without reaching a conclusion, he waved his hand. "It doesn't matter. It will pass, just like it always does."

"...I hope so. But if it doesn't-"

"Then we'll talk again," he agreed. _Or not_, he added privately. Once upon a time he would have dragged his load of complaints to his elder brother's doorstep without much more than a third or fourth thought, but now there were other factors. Nightwing had enough to deal with just corralling Robin and trying to keep the boy and the recently-returned Batman from locking horns every time they passed in the hall. Put that on top of his own personal life, and Red Robin didn't see how the man could bear anyone else's issues.

_Besides,_ a bitter tendril slipped around his next internal comment as a third figure swung into sight and rose to join them, _I'm not the youngest anymore. I should be able to fly on my own, right?_

"Did you tie them all?" Nightwing asked once Robin had landed and tucked away his grappling gun.

The child paused. "...No. I thought I'd let them go so we could have the pleasure of chasing them another night."

"Nah," a chuckle answered, "the justice system already has a criminal catch and release program set up. They don't need our help on that end."

"No shit," Red Robin snorted.

"How would _you_ know?" Robin turned on him. "You haven't even caught anyone tonight."

"So naturally that makes me unfamiliar with the general practices of our corrections facilities," he retorted automatically.

"Would you two chill? There's no shame in taking a little time to enjoy the view," Nightwing ruffled the boy's hair, "and Red's more of a justice head than either of us, besides. Adding book smarts to street smarts; you're further than I ever got on that count, bro, and it's awesome."

He would have taken pride in the comment if the very next word out of the other man's mouth hadn't been 'ow.' "What's wrong?" he frowned.

"Ah, it's nothing." Belying his nonchalance, Nightwing pulled back the arm he'd been about to sling over Red Robin's shoulders and began to test it. "Just sore."

"Was it the prick with the baseball bat?" Robin queried. His tone was unconcerned, but his fists had clenched at his sides. "I thought it looked close a couple of times when he went for you."

"He barely brushed me. Don't worry about it. It's not broken. I'll live."

"Can you swing like that, though? That's your dominant arm."

"Gee, let's shout it from the rooftops, genius," Robin snarked.

"Oh, please," Nightwing joked before a response could be made. "What am I, a porcelain doll? I could swing by just about any other joint I have, and you both know it."

It was a true statement, but there wasn't much comfort in it for Red Robin. "...Maybe we should head in just in case. Even if it's not broken, you probably ought to have it looked at as soon as possible."

"Yeah," the child conceded with an unhappy sneer.

"...Well, if you two are agreeing on something for once, I'm sure not going to be the guy who argues. We'd have to go soon for Rob's bedtime anyway. What do you say, Red," he bumped him, "come with us and save yourself a drive in the morning? You missed last Sunday's breakfast, and you'll never get away with two in a row."

"Okay," he nodded. It _would_ save him a trip in the morning, and he had nothing pressing to do back at his apartment. Besides, he smirked, this way he could exercise one of the few rights he still possessed over the youngest bird. "...I call shotgun."

"Bullshit!" a juvenile squeak rang out.

"Hey, now, you know the rule," Nightwing lectured. "Front seat privileges come with age."

"Yeah, well, try living with that when you're the youngest."

"Maybe you won't be the youngest forever. Batman's not old, he could have another kid."

"...Hmph," Robin huffed his displeasure at that suggestion.

"Please, _please_ don't plant that idea in Batman's head," Red Robin pleaded. "One like _him," _he jerked his thumb towards the scowling child,_ "_is enough. More than enough. Too many." _God, I really __would__ be in the middle then,_ he winced. _Great._

"Aw, come on, you two. I've liked every brother he's brought me home so far. It's fun when you're not all plotting to kill each other."

"Speak for yourself," both of the others muttered.

"Ha! You just agreed again! Twice in one night...that might be a record." Grinning, Nightwing reached for the spare grapple hanging against his left hip and started towards the edge of the roof. "Let's go for a third in the car, huh? I'll see you two be friends yet!" With that he stepped into nothingness and glided away down the broad avenue below with a happy laugh.

"...He's insane," Red Robin remarked.

"He's...!" Robin stopped, his expression suggesting that he wanted to disagree on principle but couldn't quite bring himself to do so. "...Shit. He _is_, but-"

"But if you say so, then we've agreed for a third time."

"Damn it." A pensive moment passed. "...We could agree to disagree."

"That would still be agreeing. And don't even try disagreeing to disagree; for one thing, it's another dead end in the catch-22 he's got us in, and for another, it would imply that one of us agrees with him that we might someday be friends."

"Which will _never_ happen."

"Right. _Shit_," he kicked himself. "We did it again."

"...No. No, we didn't." Robin yanked his gun from his belt and pointed it in the direction Nightwing had gone. "This discussion never happened. He left, then we left. No words were passed."

"Except for curse words."

"_No_ words. I'll get it trouble if you mention cursing in front of the wrong person."

"I know. But at least we won't agree on whether or not you did it." A smirk slipped across his lips. _I win._

"...Damn you," an angry hiss reached his ears. Then the boy was gone, too, and Red Robin was alone on the rooftop once more.

He stared after him for a long second. Those parting words shouldn't have hurt, he knew, but they had. Hadn't they had a moment, just now? He'd thought so, but...apparently not.

Shaking his head at himself, he freed his own grapple and walked forwards. _A 'moment' with Damian. The world will end before that happens, Drake. Pull yourself together. _As he dropped off of the roof, the gnawing sense of something missing – no, he decided, it was more like he was missing _out_ on something – returned. He hadn't even noticed that it had gone, but its reappearance was unwelcome, and there was only one person he could think of to blame for it.

_...Damn you too, demon-child,_ his eyes narrowed behind his mask. _Damn you, too._


	2. Chapter 2

Six months passed. Tim kept his affairs to himself as much as possible, and for the most part found that he could ignore the strange angst that had been cyclically stalking him. Every great once in a while he allowed himself to reflect that the time line that had been laid out on that high summer rooftop meant that his ill feeling had begun roughly when Damian had arrived on the scene and begun attracting Dick's attention. Unwilling to look the truth of his jealousy in the face for more than a second at a time, however, he restricted such instances of insight with a rigid authority that would have made Batman proud. His denial of fact, which had always been something he needed with the same desperation as he did food, water, and oxygen, served to worsen his overall outlook, and by the end of December he was beginning to receive curious looks from all quarters of his acquaintance.

As a result, the knock on his door after the Christmas Eve patrol came as no surprise. Would it be Bruce with a probing question, he wondered, or perhaps Alfred with a gentle request that he either spill the beans or keep a smile plastered on through the following day's activities? Finding Damian on the other side of the portal wouldn't even have shocked him at that point, although he couldn't imagine the kid announcing his presence with something so civilized as a tap on the frame. "...Oh," he faltered when he discovered Dick instead. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was on my way to that, but...there was something I wanted to do first. Do you have a sec?"

"Yeah, sure." Turning away from his visitor, he padded to his bed and sat cross-legged atop the covers. "What's up?"

"Well, I was going to save this until morning," Dick confessed, holding his hands behind his back as he came into the room. "The more I thought about it, though, the more I figured we should probably talk after you open it, and I don't want you to have to wait to do that. So..." A gaily wrapped package was pulled into the open, the hand holding it shaking slightly as it was held out. "Merry Christmas, little brother. I hope you like it."

He took his present quickly, not wanting to strain the quaking limb with a delay. While the baseball-bat wielding thug of half a year earlier hadn't broken any of the bones in Dick's wrist, his glancing blow _had_ caused a nasty case of acute compartment syndrome from which he was still recovering. Tim could all too easily remember the husky agony he had heard in his brother's voice when he'd gone down to the kitchen early the morning after the fight and found him in tense discussion with a dressing gown-clad Alfred. An emergency visit to Leslie's clinic had followed, and had led in turn to the family spending the afternoon in one of the many waiting areas of Gotham Memorial.

The surgical attempt to keep the swollen internal tissues from causing any permanent disability had worked, fortunately, and Dick had flown through his physical therapy with flying colors. He had only been back out on patrol for a few weeks, though, and after several hours of heavy use his wrist was showing fatigue. "What is it?" Tim asked now, trying to distract himself from the awful tremble he'd just seen. "You can sit, if you want," he added, gesturing to a chair.

"Thanks. As for what it is, I'm not going to ruin the surprise. Open it!"

"Alfred's going to be upset that you raided the tree, you know." He wasn't really that worried – if anyone could win the butler's forgiveness for such a heinous Yuletide crime, it was Dick – but rather nervous. What could possibly be under the pleasant green-striped paper in his hand that was controversial enough to warrant not only a private opening, but a talk afterward? Special gifts from Dick had a well-deserved reputation as emotional landmines, and if he was going to trigger one tonight he wanted time to prepare himself. "I mean...maybe we should do this tomorrow."

"Timmy..." A pout appeared. "Please? Don't worry about Alfred; I never put this present downstairs, so I didn't technically touch the tree. No one else even knows about it yet. It's important, though, and...and I think it will make you feel better about something. So...open it, okay?"

He blinked at him, then sighed. "Okay. If it's that important." It felt like a book, he decided as he slipped his finger under the first flap and lifted. He couldn't even begin to guess what book Dick would think was so important that it deserved to be unwrapped early and by itself, let alone how a story was supposed to make him feel better about anything, but if it was that meaningful to the other man then he would take the bait.

His brows drew together curiously as the tome flopped from its holiday disguise and onto the mattress. "...'Remote Hikes in the American West,'" he read out loud, tilting his head in order to make out the words sprawled across the glossy cover. "Dick, what...?"

"Check out the marked section," his brother urged, his suggestion coming out as if he was holding his breath in excitement.

As he picked the guide up and thumbed to the folded piece of paper that stuck out midway through, Tim felt a tiny flame of interest flare in the pit of his stomach. A suspicion was growing in the back of his mind as to what this mystery gift might turn out to signify, but he pushed it aside. It would just turn out to be a wild goose chase with something dorky at the end, he was sure. It was just a little mystery that Dick had set up to amuse him on Christmas. There wasn't time for it to be anything more than that.

"'Asperity Falls,'" he murmured the chapter heading. "It's beautiful," he went on, examining the photo of a huge, cascading wall of liquid on the opposite page. Maybe he was missing something, he mused as he scanned the picture, the text, the page number, anything that might give him a clue as to what this was supposed to be a reference to. _'Asperity'...what, is the water bitter, or the trail ridiculously hard?_ He shook his head, puzzled. If this was the first piece of a bigger puzzle, he wasn't off to a very good start. "But I still don't understand," he confessed finally.

"Look at the bookmark," Dick, who was now leaning forward in his seat and tapping one foot eagerly, encouraged.

His confusion growing, he retrieved the page he'd set aside and unfolded it. As his eyes skipped down the itinerary, everything came together. There were their names – and only, he noted with rising giddiness, _their_ names – alongside dates, times, and airport codes. At the bottom were the details for a rental car, followed by serial numbers that claimed to be for backcountry camping permits. "Are...are we going to this place?" he whispered. "This Asperity Falls, we're...we're going there?"

"Do you want to?"

"Do...do I _want_ to? I...well..." He trailed off, unable to speak as a dozen different emotions contested for dominance.

The mattress sank beside him as Dick moved closer. "I know hiking isn't really something you've ever done outside of missions," he said quietly, "but I thought it might be fun to make your first civilian camping experience a big thing, you know? We'd be out of the city, away from people...it would just be you and me, Timmy. I know...well, I know I don't have as much time to hang out as I used to, and...and I'm sorry, little brother. I really am, because I miss it just as much as I think you do. I miss _you_. Now it seems like it's never just you and me, at least not for more than a few minutes at a time, and that sucks. So...yeah.

"We can go somewhere else if you want," he offered. "This just seemed like kind of a cool idea. Bruce hates sleeping on anything that didn't used to be attached to a bird, and Dami would probably complain half the time, but...well, if you want to go, and you like it, I thought maybe hiking could kind of become a...a thing we did together. There are a lot of trails out there," he smiled, "and I can't think of a better partner to explore them with. You don't have to answer right now, I know it's a big idea, but-"

"Yes," Tim cut him off. He had been staring at the behemoth cascade in the book as Dick's monologue washed over him, and although he'd been listening to the words they really hadn't been necessary. All the feeling he needed had been conveyed by the silent hours that must have been spent in the planning of this proposal, in the careful research and reasoning that had led to the selection of this place, and of this time, and most importantly, of _him_. If Dick wanted to hike into the middle of nowhere to look at a waterfall, he had a hundred friends who would say yes with barely a second thought. But Dick hadn't planned this trip for any of his friends; he'd planned it for him, for _them, _and that was all the impetus Tim needed to throw caution momentarily to the wind. "Yes. Let's do it. I'm in."

"...You're sure?"

"I'm...ninety-nine point nine percent sure," he nodded. "I know I'm going to have a million questions and hesitations between now and when we leave, but..." But this, he realized suddenly, was what he'd been missing for so long. The hang time, the little things that only he and Dick did together, the in-jokes that even Bruce hadn't been privy to...there had been so little time for any of that since Damian had arrived, and even less after Bruce had 'died.' The billionaire's return had reset things somewhat, but it had taken months for the strain that had come into their relationship in their mentor's absence to relax. Even with that improvement, though, the painful sense of rejection he'd carried for the last three years lingered.

But now...now there was time, and the chance for solitude. That was the real gift under the trip and all of the trappings that were sure to come with it, he knew. He wanted nothing more in the world than for things to be the way they once had between him and his brother, and nothing was going to make him pass up an opportunity to make them so. "...But let's do it," he finished as a watery grin spread across his face. "Let's hike the _hell_ out of this trail together."

"Together," Dick repeated, slinging his freshly-scarred arm around Tim's shoulders and pulling him into a hug. "We'll hike that thing like it's never been hiked before."

"It doesn't know what it's got coming to it."

"Nope. But considering that only two or three dozen passes a year are given out for people to go back to the falls, you can't really fault it for being inexperienced."

"...Wait," Tim pulled back. "Only two or three _dozen_? Is there even a trail?"

"There's a trail. It's just restricted. Don't worry, little brother, I wouldn't make you work _too_ hard on your first for-fun backpacking trip."

"Backpacking...I'm going to have to start getting used to carrying a pack." Traipsing through the woods in costume was one thing, but the few times he'd had to lug another person through the trees had taught him that toting a load was a completely different workout than anything he'd ever trained for. "I'm going to have to _get_ a pack. Damn. There's a lot to do."

"Relax. I knew you'd immediately start thinking about the logistics, so I took the liberty of working most of them out for us. Probably half the stuff you're going to convince yourself that you'll need is already downstairs under the tree and waiting for you. Besides, we're not going until July, so we've both got plenty of time to get ready. You work on getting your hiking legs ready," he mock-punched his knee, "and I'll focus on getting ol' righty here back into bushwhacking condition."

"'Ol' righty,'" Tim laughed at Dick's nickname for his wounded wrist. "I don't know, ten days with your sense of humor might turn me off of camping permanently."

"Oh, please. You love my sense of humor. And you're going to love camping, too," he asserted, his eyes twinkling joyously. "I know it's a cliché, but...I just have this feeling that we're going to have the trip of a lifetime next summer. And the summer after that, and the summer after that," he joked. "Hopefully." With that, he stood. "Anyway...I'm really glad you like it, Timmy. Not just because tomorrow would have been really awkward if you'd hated it, either."

"I know." Ducking his head, he stared down once more at the sparkling, sunlit canyon that he could almost picture them standing in together already. "...Dick?" he said, stopping the other man at the door.

"Mm-hmm?"

"Thank you. This is...well." It was quite possibly the best gift anyone had ever given him short of life itself, but he knew he would choke on the words. "If I believed in Santa, I'd think you were him, you know? You've got some ridiculous talent for gift-giving."

"Nah. I just like to make people happy. That goes double for the people I love, so...there you have it. Anyway..." He yawned, then grinned. "Merry Christmas, little brother." "Merry Christmas," he smiled back. "See you in a few hours."

"You know it." Just before he shut the door, Dick winked. "Sweet dreams, huh?"

"...Yeah. You, too."

When he was alone, Tim shut off all the lights except the one on his nightstand. In the pale glow of the lamp he flipped through the chapter on Asperity Falls, reading mile marker descriptions and trying to imagine what it would be like to stand at each of them. Time and again he returned to the cover photo, and with each glance it became easier and easier to put himself and Dick in the frame. Their muscles would protest, the waterfall's roar would deafen them, the cold spray would soak them so thoroughly that Alfred would cringe from two thousand miles away, and their heads would probably ache from the way the light would refract off of the water in a thousand different directions at once, but it would all be worth it. To make such a rare, impossible journey with his brother...there were very few trials that he wouldn't willingly undergo for such an opportunity.

He passed out eventually with his hand on the book, and slept with a soundness he hadn't known in many months.

* * *

**Author's Note: Acute compartment syndrome is essentially a problem where the pressure inside certain tissues increases to the point of cutting off circulation to the area. The hand, wrist, and forearm are particularly susceptible to this sort of damage, and it can occur without there being any bone fracture or other obvious damage. The risk is that the swelling can cut off blood flow so thoroughly to an area that tissues begin to die, leading to permanent paralysis or other disability. So as you can imagine, that was not a diagnosis Dick would have been happy to hear.**

**We'll switch into Dick's POV for a couple of chapters tomorrow. Happy reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**_July_**

"Daaami." Trying to suppress the eagerness he was certain was all but leaking out of his ears over the trip he would be embarking on in a few short hours, Dick poked his head around the door. "Dami? You in here?"

"God, would you leave on your stupid thing already?" a muffled retort came.

Stepping inside, he crossed the room and leaned out through the open window. "There you are," he smiled when he found the boy curled up on the roof overhang. "Mind if I join you? I'll break my neck if I try to talk to you like this for too long."

"...Wish you _would_..."

"You wish I would join you?" He knew that wasn't what had been meant, but he'd learned long ago that willful misunderstanding was a fairly potent weapon against his youngest brother's snark. "Sure. Thanks for asking." With that he clambered onto the shingles and crossed his legs beneath himself, purposefully blocking the window with his back. "...It's nice out here."

"It's hot, and muggy, and miserable. You know that."

"I know," he sighed. "And I know why you're out here sweating and pouting instead of inside in the air conditioning, too."

"You don't know anything."

"I know you're upset that I'm taking this trip with Tim."

"Who cares if you go on some dumb hike?"

"I know you've been kind of mad at me for it ever since Christmas, too, but I'm guessing that you've been able to ignore it because it was always in the future and not right in front of you like it is now."

"Tsk. Whatever." Damian crossed his arms and stared out over the lawn.

Dick laid down his trump card. "And I know you're feeling left out, and maybe a little jealous." He paused. "How's that for knowing things?"

"It's terrible. I'm not jealous of _Drake_. Jesus, what kind of a ridiculous sap do you think I am?"

"You mean you're jealous that I get to spend time with him, then?" _I'll take that,_ he thought. _There's hope for you two yet, I'm sure of it._

The glare he received for that comment was smoldering, however. "Don't be retarded, Grayson. It doesn't suit you."

"Then what is it, Dami?" he prodded. "Come on, talk to me. I don't want to leave without knowing that you're okay. I'll think about it the whole time I'm gone if I do."

"Yeah? Good."

There was a hurt note in the boy's voice that gave Dick an idea. He slid closer to the petulant child, stopping only when their knees brushed. "...I'm going to think about you anyway, little D," he promised. "You know that."

"Hmph. Like you'll have time to think of anything other than your stupid bonding ritual. Which you're going to be late for if you don't _go_ already."

"It's only an hour and fifteen minute drive from here to the airport. I've got time for you." A beat passed. "I've always got time for you. _And_ for Tim," he stressed. "I've got time for Jason, too, he just never wants to use any of it. The point is, I've got time for all of you because you're _all_ my little brothers."

"Uh-huh."

_Come on, bro, don't be like this,_ he pleaded silently. "Stop thinking about this trip as being some sort of sign that I care more about Tim than I do you, because you're wrong, Dami," he switched tacks. "There's no first, second, and third to me; it's a flat stage you're all standing on. You haven't been demoted, and you haven't been replaced, because those things aren't possible. Okay?"

"Yeah, right."

Dick fell silent, stymied. He'd been watching Damian's upset build for weeks, and had tried to prepare for this conversation as best he could, but his efforts weren't proving very successful. "...I don't know what else to say," he confessed sadly. "I'm sorry that you're so mad about this, and I want to fix it, but I'm not going to cancel on Timmy just because you're jealous."

"Of course you wouldn't. He's number one again."

He started. Hadn't he just explained that there were no podiums in his heart? He knew the boy had heard him, but clearly his words hadn't been taken seriously. "There's no number one," he insisted. "You're not in competition with him, or with anyone, at least not for my love. I know that might be kind of hard to wrap your head around because you're so used to treating everything like it has a first place, but it's the truth."

"I really don't care, Grayson."

"And I really don't believe you, Dami. You _do_ care, I know you do, and that's why I don't want to leave you with hurt feelings about this." He glanced at his watch and winced. He always had time for his littlest brother, as he'd said, but it was fixing to run into the time he'd allotted to the next eldest, and the issue at hand felt far from resolved. "Look, I'm not asking you to love Tim, okay? I'm not even asking you to love me. All I'm asking is for you to understand that my going on this trip doesn't mean I love you any less than I always have. It doesn't mean I love Tim any more than I always have, either. I love you both the same, and I always will. Nothing's going to change that."

"Then why-"

A piercing series of _beeps_ sounded from the apparatus on Dick's wrist, cutting Damian off. "Sorry," he apologized as he silenced it. "Why, what?"

"...Never mind," a sour grumble replied.

_Shit._ If the alarm had waited just a few more seconds to sound, he might have exploited the crack that the boy had been about to reveal in his defenses. Now the moment had passed, and he was being shut out again. "Dami-"

"I said never mind, Grayson! Just take your stupid watch that stupid Drake gave you for your stupid birthday and go on your stupid field trip!"

"I have another minute," he pressed on despite the vehemence in the child's exclamations. "We can still-"

With an exasperated sigh, Damian rose into a crouch and walked to the window.

"What...where are you going?" Dick asked, hurt.

"I'm going to be alone," was spat back. "The way I _prefer_ to be."

"Aw, Dami..." The boy vanished back into the house without waiting for him to finish. He clambered after him, and made it to the doorway just before the smaller figure turned the corner at the far end of the hall. "I love you," he called sadly. "...I'll see you next week!"

But Damian was gone.

"...Hell," a rare curse passed his lips. Maybe he still had time to chase after him, if he hurried...

"Dick?" Tim appeared at the top of the stairs at the opposite end of the corridor. "Bruce said we should go now. Um...oh," his shoulders slumped as he caught sight of the older man's expression. "Is...is everything okay?"

"Relax, Timmy," Dick gave him a wan smile. "We're still going on our trip. Just...give me one more second, okay? We'll have plenty of time; you know how Bruce is about being at the airport two hours early. I'll be right down."

"Okay. I'll just...wait down there for you."

"Thanks." Not wanting to waste any time, he retraced his steps into Damian's bedroom. _I can at least leave him a note,_ he mused, rifling through the mess on the desk in search of a pen and paper. All he found was the back of an old school report and a stack of colored pencils, but it would have to do. Leaving a missive on the boy's pillow wasn't the way he wanted to address the situation, but it was the best option he had if he was going to keep his promise to Tim. Hoping that the boy wouldn't be too angry with him for touching his stuff, he scrawled a quick message and laid it on the pillows that crowned the bed. "...Can't miss that without ignoring it, Dami," he breathed, "and I don't think you'd outright ignore me, no matter how mad you are right now."

His watch went off again, drawing a groan. He had to go, and he had to go now. _See you soon, baby brother, _he sighed as he shut the door behind himself. _I'll miss you more than you know._

* * *

"You're sure you have everything?" Bruce asked as they stood on the terminal sidewalk an hour and a half later.

"We've got everything," Dick promised. Tim's half-suppressed excitement had been infectious in the car, and his mood had lightened considerably. Now he found himself amused by the inexplicable nervousness of their mentor, who had queried them about their preparedness at least three times on the drive into town.

"Don't get so eager to start that you forget to pick up fuel on the far end," the billionaire lectured. The small gas cylinders for their one-burner stove were forbidden on flights, even in checked luggage, and would have to be purchased after they'd landed. "You'll need that. It will give you a chance to buy anything else you might have forgotten to pack, too."

"We know," Tim assured as he hefted his full pack onto a cart behind Dick's. "Don't worry, we won't forget. I've got a list, remember?"

"...Right. Well...here, then." Holding up one finger as a signal for them to wait, he ducked back into the vehicle. Dick shot his brother a quizzical look, and received a shrug in reply. Then Bruce emerged holding a small plastic case. "I know you already have an emergency locator beacon," he cut them off before they could protest, "but take another. This way you both have one, just in case you get separated."

Shaking his head, Dick took it. "I don't know where I'm going to pack it," he joked, "but if it makes you feel better-"

"It does."

"-then I'll figure it out once we get inside. Okay?"

"Good." Their gazes met, and suddenly Bruce was gripping him in a tight hug. "...Be careful," he heard ordered as he was released. "...And watch out for each other," was added as Tim received his embrace.

"And call when we land," Dick smiled.

"And don't forget to buy stove fuel," his brother tacked on.

"And," a final addendum was thrown in, along with a chastising look, "have fun. Don't worry about things here; we'll be fine." A beat passed while he examined them as if he was trying to take a snapshot with his eyes. "...Go catch your flight, boys. I'll see you in ten days."

A minute later it was just them, and it all began to feel real. "Timmy?" Dick asked as he rearranged his clothes to make room for the last-minute addition that had been forced on him.

"Huh?" Tim answered without looking away from the check-in kiosk he was busily tapping away on.

"...This is _actually_ happening."

That got the younger man's attention, and he shot him a grin. "I know, right? Six months of training and prepping, and we're finally going." A few more pecks at the screen caused a whirring noise to start up inside the machine. When it ceased, Tim held up two slips of paper. "Look. Boarding passes," he smirked.

"Row two, bro. First class all the way."

"If you've got to fly commercial, it's the only way to go."

"Eh, a private jet seemed like too much luxury for a hiking trip. I figured we should ease ourselves into the whole 'not showering for the next week' part of things."

"Because first class is really rough sailing."

"I can ask them to switch us to coach if you prefer," Dick teased.

"Uh, no. I'm good. But thanks."

"No problem." They beamed at one another. "...This is going to be awesome."

"The best."

"Let's go check our bags," he jerked his head towards the line-free first-class window. "The sooner we get through security, the sooner it will feel even _more_ real." The sooner, too, that he could text Bruce and fill him in on what had happened just before they'd taken their leave of Alfred at the house. He'd refrained from mentioning it in the car, not wanting to dampen the mood of the trip right from the get-go, but he needed to warn him that the boy was probably going to snap at everything for the next few days. Besides, while the billionaire and his youngest might butt heads often due to their painfully similar natures sometimes Batman could get out of Robin what no one could get out of Damian. It was worth a try, if nothing else.

"I'm right behind you," Tim agreed, grabbing hold of the luggage cart. "Carry-ons only, here we come."

"Enjoy it now. We've got a long trail ahead of us."

"Good. I'm looking forward to it."

Despite his still-present worry over the situation he'd left at home, Dick couldn't help but smile happily at that simple assertion. "...Me, too, little brother. Me, too."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I realized this morning that I have been remiss in giving credit where credit is due. The title of this story is the result of a series of conversations I held some time ago with Soul Music, who dropped the extremely apropos little phrase and was kind enough to allow me to use it. Some of the content of this story is also rooted in those discussions we had, so many, many thanks to Soul Music for letting my muse riff off our talks!**

* * *

Their flight was uneventful, and they exited the plane in high spirits. Dick had wondered frequently during the trip whether or not Damian had found and read his note yet, and if so what his reaction had been, but he tried not to dwell on it. Bruce had promised to keep an extra eye on the boy while they were gone, and there was nothing more that could be done about the issue from his end. Now, he reminded himself as they walked down the jetway, it was time to focus on Tim.

"Damn, those were some good cookies," the man in question remarked. "Not, you know, Alfred-good, but good."

"The flight attendant brought you enough of them that you should know," he joked. "I think she liked you. You want to stop out here and try to get her number when she comes out?"

"That wouldn't be the creepiest thing in the world or anything. Excuse me, miss, I noticed that you went above and beyond at your job; would you care to be stalked as a reward?"

"Heh. Well, when you put it _that_ way it does sound creepy. C'mon, though, didn't you think she was cute?"

"...She might not have as good of cookies as Alfred does, but she was definitely better looking. I'll give her that."

"I'm not sure 'better looking than Alfred' is much of a compliment to give a girl."

"Maybe not, but it's better than telling her she's _less_ attractive than a sixty-some-odd years old Englishman."

"You do have a point there." He slowed as they passed a coffee cart. "Thirsty? We've got a couple hours drive to get out to the hotel."

"Might be nice to have something cool for the road. I could see heat waves rising off the runway when we taxied in."

"The landing announcement said it's eighty-three out today. It should be cooler at elevation, though."

"God, I hope so..."

Cold drinks in hand, they retrieved their packs from the luggage carousel two levels down and headed for the rental car desks. A half-dozen documents later they approached a long row of SUVs. Dick pressed a button on the key fob he'd been given, and a set of taillights blinked at them in reply.

"Reading the sign over the car felt plebeian, or what?" Tim teased.

"E-7 was just too complicated for me to remember," he joshed right back.

"Watch, there was someone else around who came up with the same solution and this is actually _their_ rental."

"I wonder what the odds of that would be?"

"You don't like numbers that big."

"Darn. Oh well. Hey, the key works," he announced as he lifted the back gate. "I guess the odds were in our favor, huh?"

"Trust me, it would have been hard for them not to be."

"I'll take your word for it."

Once they were strapped in, Dick clapped his hands together. "Alright. I need you to navigate."

"...We have a GPS," Tim pointed at the dash.

"True. But that won't tell me if you want to pull over to look at something."

"Oh. I think I'll probably be good if it's only a couple of hours."

"Well, if you change your mind..."

"I'll say something."

"Okay. I mean it, though, Timmy. We can stop every tenth of a mile for a picture if you want. I don't mind."

"I know you don't. Seriously, I'll tell you if I want to stop. I have to break in my Christmas camera, after all."

"True. If that's settled, then let's go shopping."

Between their urban pathfinding skills and the navigation system, it was child's play finding a sporting goods store. Dick was both repulsed and elated by the décor inside, which consisted primarily of mounted hunting trophies from around the world. On the one hand, he very much preferred wild animals to be alive; on the other, it was neat to get a preview of the creatures that they might encounter on their hike.

"Hey, Dick?" Tim drew his attention away from the heads that ringed the huge warehouse.

"Huh?"

"You can relax. There's no elephant at this one."

"Oh..." That news did, in fact, ease his stomach. They had ventured into one of the Gotham branches of this particular chain of outfitters several months earlier, but he had been unable to stay once he'd spotted the huge gray-skinned relic that had held the place of pride above the gun counter. It had been an old specimen, his brother had informed him later, dating back to the fifties, but it still disgusted him when he thought about it. "Thanks," he said now. "I would have felt really bad if I'd had to run out on you again."

"Eh, we'd have just gone and found another store. Anyway...you want to make a bet on how many of these local animals we'll see this week?"

"There are plenty to choose from, that's for sure." From where they were standing they could see bears, wolves, a bison, various members of the deer family, and a dozen types of bird native to the region, all artfully taxidermied and on display. "Let's walk around a bit and lay down some numbers later."

"Sounds good to me."

The two hours of daylight they'd gained by coming west left them in no rush, and they took their time shopping. Stove fuel and bear spray, both verboten on commercial planes, were the first things they went after. After that there really wasn't much else that they needed or, indeed, had room for, but they strolled through the aisles anyway. Comparing prices and options on tents, packs, sleeping bags, and smaller gear had become a bit of a pastime for them since they'd begun preparing for this adventure, and it was even more fun to do in an area of hte country so different from their own.

"Do you think we'll need climbing equipment?" Tim frowned before a display of ropes and carabiners.

"Nah. It's not a difficult trail, just a restricted one. If we end up needing climbing gear, something's gone really wrong," Dick opined. "Besides, that's a lot of extra weight to carry for just in case we get a whim to scale a cliff."

"Ugh. No more weight. Point taken."

When they had satisfied themselves that the items they'd brought from home were the best ones available for them to set out with, they made their way to the front. "Ooh," Dick stopped suddenly before a display of old-fashioned candy. "Hey. Food for the ride?"

"You and your sweet tooth," Tim shook his head.

"Says the guy who ate a half-dozen cookies on the plane."

"She kept bringing them! I didn't want to be rude."

"Uh-huh," he nudged him. "Flirt."

"Puh-lease. I'm not a flirt. You're mistaking me for you."

"Nah, I know the difference. That's why I can feel safe buying a bag of licorice; you won't touch it."

"Yeah, you can just keep that nasty stuff to yourself. But _these_..." Tim snagged a bag of red-colored lozenges and dropped them in the basket. "These are delicious."

"Whatever makes you happy, little brother." Personally Dick thought that the cherry hard candies the younger man was fond of tasted like cough syrup, but he didn't mind paying for them so long as he wasn't going to be forced to eat them. "We ready?"

"Yup. Let's hit the road."

They'd been back on the freeway for all of thirty seconds when Tim uttered an oath. "What's wrong?" Dick inquired.

"We forgot to call Bruce, that's what's wrong."

"Oof," he cringed. The billionaire would have tried to contact them himself if he was getting truly worried, but he still hated to think that they'd caused him any undue stress. "Put him on speaker so we can both talk, would you?"

"Sure."

The phone barely got through one ring before it was answered, and Dick tore his eyes from the road just long enough to exchange a guilty look with his brother. "Hey," they greeted simultaneously.

"Boys. I was beginning to wonder. Was your flight delayed?"

"Um...no," he confessed.

"We _might_ have forgotten to call before we went to the store," Tim pitched in. "Sorry."

"Sorry. But you'll be happy to hear that we have plenty of stove fuel and bear spray now," Dick announced, hoping to make up somewhat for their transgression. "...Also candy."

A chuckle sounded on the Gotham end. "Good. Did you eat yet?"

"Airplane food."

"Get something decent for dinner."

"Yes, _Alfred_," Tim laughed.

"You have a long walk ahead of you. You're going to want full stomachs to start out on. Dinner's on me, and breakfast, too, so don't skimp."

"You got it."

"Okay. Well..." There was a long pause. "...Just be careful out there. And _don't_ forget to call me when you come off the trail." Another beat passed. "If you have a signal at some point, I wouldn't object to a mid-trip call, too."

The glance the pair in the SUV shared this time was one of concern. "...Is something wrong?" Dick queried. "You seem oddly nervous about this, Bruce."

"No. I just want you to be careful. Stick to the trail, and don't do anything unnecessarily risky."

"You heard him, Dick," Tim said with mock gravity. "No petting the bears, no matter _how_ fluffy they look."

"If I find out that you tried something like that, you're grounded," Bruce threatened.

"...How are you going to ground me? I'm twenty-five!"

"I'll find a way. Don't go there."

"I won't, I won't," he swore. His mouth opened to ask about Damian, then closed again. _Leave it,_ he advised himself. _Timmy doesn't need to hear about it, and he definitely doesn't need to feel like I'm focused on anyone other than him this week._ "Are we good?"

"...We're good. Have fun, and be safe. I'll talk to you both soon."

"Yup! Bye! Love you!"

"Bye, Bruce," Tim closed out the conversation and ended the call. He stared at his phone for a second, then broached a question. "...Does he seem off to you today?"

"You too, huh? Do I want this exit?"

"Uh...the GPS says you want the next one. I don't get it, though; this is far from the most dangerous thing we've ever done, so why all the extra 'be carefuls'?"

"Maybe just because it's something new? I mean, I've gone on weekend hikes with Wally before, but that's different, you know?"

"Maybe. Or...or maybe it's because we're doing it as civilians. With Wally, you'd have the advantage of his speed if you needed it, even as civilians. We're not metas, though, and with no radio connection with either him or the Watchtower, no armor, no Batgear...there's an added element of danger there."

"Hiking in armor...been there, done that, would prefer not to repeat." Dick shuddered as he recalled a miserable swamp slog he'd had to make in full Batman regalia during Bruce's absence. "I can see why that would worry him, but...I don't know, it feels like something more than that." It couldn't be Damian, he thought. The boy's attitude this morning was worrisome, but not to the point where Bruce would be telling _them_ to be extra cautious. Besides, the man hadn't even known about that aspect of things when they'd parted at the airport, and he'd acted strangely then, too. "...A lot can happen in the wilderness, sure, but a lot can happen walking down the street. He never gets this antsy when we go into town."

"We know town. We don't know this place."

"True..."

"I think you're right, though. There's something else bothering him. I'd say he has information about something going on out here, but he would have told us about it."

"...I don't know about that," Dick argued slowly. "If he figured that whatever he knows would make us worry, or might entice us to chase after it and get ourselves into trouble, I could see him keeping it to himself."

"Hmm..." Tim settled back in his seat. "That seems logical. He wants us to have fun, so he wouldn't want to distract us from vacation with a possible mission. I could buy that, especially since we're out of costume. But what _is_ it, then?"

"I have no idea. I haven't heard of anything big going on out here in ages, have you?"

"Nope."

"Huh."

"You got that right."

"Well...do you want to chase this further? We could call Uncle Clark. If anyone will know what's going on, it's him, and he might be convinced to spill."

There was no answer for a moment. "You know what?" Tim ruled finally, "no. I _don't_ want to chase it. I know that's probably the weirdest thing I've ever said without having a head injury to account for it, but we didn't come out here to solve a mystery. We came out here to have an awesome hiking trip, and that's what I want to do. If Bruce needed us to handle something, he would have told us so. Since he didn't, let's just be normal for a few days."

Dick was pleased. As much as he loved a good chase, the prospect of giving up what little time they had to be regular guys together in order to embark on one hadn't delighted him. "Good plan," he nodded. They fell silent as they exited onto a north-bound highway that immediately began to climb. In a few seconds the bulk of the city they'd landed in was no longer visible in the rearview mirror, and not even the presence of other vehicles on the road could take away from the sense that it was now just them and mother nature. "...Let's throw on some music and open up the candy," he suggested with a happy sigh as colorful canyon walls rose on either side of them, blocking out everything except the road ahead. "Car trips don't get any more normal than that."


	5. Chapter 5

They ascended through canyons for twenty minutes before the road broke onto the top of a plateau. Fields and a few sparsely-populated junctions followed, then petered out into broad stretches of wild grassland. Eventually they began to rise again, hugging the side of a hill fraught with switchbacks and stunning vistas. Near the top they came upon a straightaway that was, for some reason, lined with cars on one side.

"...Wonder what they're looking at," Dick mused aloud as his foot pressed teased the brake. "Should we find out what all the hubbub's about?"

"'Hubbub,'" Tim repeated, amused by the word. "Sure. Let's check it out." He might not have wanted to to dive into the mystery of what was bothering Bruce, but the case of 'what's everyone staring at?' seemed manageable enough.

He found his solution almost before they had stopped. "Hey!" he exclaimed as he spotted a wooly black body several hundred yards away. "It's buffalo!"

"No way?!" Dick sounded just as ecstatic as he felt, and craned around the steering wheel to see. "...All I've got from here is the guy ahead's spare tire. Want to get out?"

"Hell yes!" He was already been halfway out the door as it was. "Wish I'd grabbed my camera," he mumbled a moment later as he approached the guard rail. "...Oh, man..."

A low whistle sounded. "Yeah," his brother agreed as he joined him. "Man, oh man..."

Twenty or so huge figures were lazily following the path of a broad, shallow creek, seeming completely unaware of the furor their appearance had caused. It was difficult to make out many details from a distance, but size differences alone showed that there were several calves among the group. 'Oohs' and 'aahs' rose from the crowd that had gathered, their cooing interrupted only by the snaps and clicks of their phones and cameras.

Judging from the animals' meandering pace that they wouldn't be going anywhere quickly, Tim tore his eyes away. "I'll be right back," he said, and returned to the car. _We've barely been on the ground three hours, and we're already seeing things,_ a happy shiver ran down his spine as he dug in his bag. If the start was any indication, this was going to be the best trip of his life.

When he swiveled around, he almost ran into his traveling companion. "Hey. You're not done looking, are you?" He couldn't be, surely; Dick would gladly spend all day watching elephants, so bison had to merit at least ten or fifteen minutes of ogling. "I just want to get a few shots..."

"Chill, bro. I'm nowhere _near_ done freaking out over those guys. But," he bounced his eyebrows, "I knew you'd come back for your camera, and I thought we might get a better view from up top."

"...'Up top'?"

"On top of the car."

"Oh!" It was a brilliant idea, but he hesitated. "You don't think we'll damage it, do you?"

"If our combined weight is enough to do that, we'd better really, _really_ hope that we don't roll over."

"Valid point." He held out the device in his hand. "Hold this for me? I don't want to bang it on anything."

"You bet."

Stepping up onto the rear seat gave him the height he needed to lever himself onto the hot metal roof. The heat leached into his jeans, stinging enough to draw a hiss of mild pain but not enough to drive him back to the ground. "Careful," he warned when he leaned over to take his camera. "It's like being in a frying pan up here."

"Sweet. How's the view?"

He gazed out over the plain ahead. "...Amazing," he breathed.

"Huh?" Dick's voice was much closer now as he scaled the side of the SUV. "Ow! You weren't kidding about the heat."

"You okay?" he asked without looking. _I hope the zoom is good enough for this distance,_ he fretted silently while he waited for an answer.

"Yeah. Just reddened my palm a little. No big deal, it'll go away. Good thing we're not in shorts, though. Wow...dang, this is a way better view than down below."

"It is." He fell silent, busy lining up a shot in his viewfinder. Crossing his ankles and lifting his knees, he created a makeshift tripod and zoomed in as far as he could. _Here goes nothing,_ he thought, then blew out his breath and pressed the shutter release.

"...Niiice," Dick complimented.

Tim, though, wrinkled his nose. "The hills look fuzzy," he complained.

"It's just haze. It's a million degrees out; that's not _your_ fault. I think it's great. Look, you even got baby buffalo butt," he laughed, pointing out a red-hued rump. "That's classic wildlife photography right there."

"They _are_ kind of cute. Let's see if I can get one of their faces, though..." He took a few more pictures, but was less satisfied with them than he had been with the first one. "Aren't you going to take any?"

"Nah. I like to have people in my pictures. Don't get me wrong, I love the stuff you take, I'm just no good at framing unless I have a person to focus on."

"Please tell me that doesn't mean we'll be stopping for selfies every fifty feet once we start walking."

"Nah, that's no fun. There're just going to be a lot of pictures of you walking ahead of me, that's all."

"Heh. Oh, great. Ass shots."

"Your Facebook page will blow up with women after I post all of them," Dick laughed back.

"Why? All you'll be able to see is backpack!" As he jested, he tucked his brother's comment away in the back of his mind. The other man had a bad habit of finding ways to get photos of his friends and family without ever being in them himself. Bruce hated it, he knew, and he couldn't make much sense of it himself either. Dick was by far the most gregarious of all of them, and was a far cry from unphotogenic besides; he should have been in _every _shot. _It won't just be pictures of me having fun that come out of this,_ he swore silently. _You're getting captured, too, whether you like it or not._

"Maybe you'll net a neat freak who appreciates how well you packed," a retort pulled him back into the conversation.

"We'd never be able to go anywhere because we'd constantly be reorganizing each other's stuff. That won't work. And it can't be an outdoorsy chick, because she'll want to butt in on our hiking trips."

"...You say that like you already know you're going to want to go on others," Dick pressed hopefully.

"If the beginning of this one is any indication of how the rest of the week will be, we might have to make _two_ trips a year." He could feel the beaming smile that he'd caused without having to look at it, and his lips curved upwards more than usual in reply. "I mean, animals already? And bison at that? Damn, that's promising."

"Awesome, Timmy. Totally awesome." Dick's arm wrapped around his shoulders, squeezed, and retreated. "Speaking of animals...we never settled on our bets."

"Oh, yeah. Hmm...are we including birds? Because that could get tedious, trying to figure out every species we see."

"Um...let's not, I guess."

"Should we stick to mammals? Maybe just ones larger than house cats? I don't really feel like squirrels and chipmunks qualify."

"Yeah, they're pretty much a given. Okay, so mammals larger than a house cat...I'm going to say eight. We've already got one, so I think seeing one new thing a day is a pretty good estimate."

Tim hummed for a moment. Eight had been the number he'd chosen when the wager was first suggested, but the huge variety of animals he'd seen in the sporting goods store had made him more optimistic than was normally his wont. "I'll say twelve," he announced. "And I'll add that I hope one of them is a bear. From a distance, so you won't be tempted to run up and pet it."

"Ha, ha," Dick nudged him playfully. "Okay, eight and twelve. Winner is whoever's closest without going over?"

"You want to use 'Price is Right' rules?"

"Hey, they've worked for this long."

"True. Sounds good." The bison, he noted, were beginning to move further away from the road. Since they'd already been near the end of his camera's zoom range, he replaced the lens cap and stretched his arms over his head. "Mmm. Should we keep going? They're wandering off, I think."

"Yeah, let's get back on the road. I'm sure we'll see more bison later on. And if we don't," he shrugged, "these guys were cool."

They climbed down and reclaimed their seats in the car. As they pulled away, Tim scanned through the several photos he'd taken and decided that the first one was, in fact, the best. After deleting most of the others he tucked his camera into the vehicle's center console, wanting it close at hand if they encountered something else worthy of capturing. It came back out a few times for drive-by landscape shots – Dick always offered to pull over, but he demurred – but for the most part the rest of the drive consisted solely of music, cherry candy, and talk.

But oh, the talk. There had been only one time in the span of their acquaintance that they hadn't been willing to speak with one another on just about any topic that came to mind, and it was well past. The opportunities for them to talk freely without worrying about someone overhearing had become fewer and further between with each progressive year, however, stifling their verbal bonding. Now, going sixty miles an hour across the high plains, they had no inhibitions. Words, and with them unspoken but easily interpreted meanings, flowed as easily as the water in the creeks they passed over.

By the time their tires crunched into the gravel lot of their hotel, it felt to Tim as if he had traveled not across the country but rather back in time. The last bits of rust had fallen away from their relationship, leaving it as limber and easy as he had remember it once being. He could only imagine how well-oiled it would be after another nine days alone together, but he didn't dare think about it for too long lest the tight ball of joy in his chest explode and kill him before he could find out for sure.

"...Whoa, Dick, you didn't have to get us a _suite_," his jaw dropped when they walked into their room around four o'clock.

"Trust me, Timmy, this is far from the most expensive one they have here. I just thought we might want some space to spread out. Besides," he grinned, "I know you're going to go through your gear again tonight. This way you don't have to put it all in a pile while you run down your packing list."

"I don't know, I might leave it be. I've checked it, like, eight hundred times this week. I'm getting as bad as Bruce," he sighed as he dropped onto the couch.

"Does that bother you?"

"No, but it does make me jealous of people like you who can inventory once or twice and then just relax and know that everything's where it should be."

"I guess I figure that if I get where I'm going and something's missing, I'll improvise. I still check, like you said, but...I don't know, maybe you and Bruce are just more paranoid than I am."

"Paranoid? How so?"

"Well, do you think your sleeping bag is going to grow legs and walk away in the middle of the night?"

"No. Of course not."

"So the only other reason to check on it again the next day is if you think someone moved it when you weren't looking, right?"

"Or that I mistakenly marked it off the first time," he frowned.

"Yeah, but how many times can you mistakenly mark something off? You've checked your gear every day for the last three weeks, bro. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that, necessarily, I'm just saying that that's possibly even more obsessive than Bruce would be about it."

"Well...to be fair, all of our stuff was in the house with Damian. Who has every reason to want to screw with me," Tim pointed out. "...I don't know what I did to that kid to make him just... _loathe_ me."

"He doesn't loathe you. He's just...complicated. And even if he _had_ messed with your stuff, he wouldn't have taken anything that would have put us at risk. Something to make things inconvenient, sure, but he wouldn't want us to end up hurt or dead because of something he did."

"You," he corrected. "He wouldn't want _you_ to end up hurt or dead because of something he did."

Dick blinked at him for a long moment, his face sad. "...There's got to be some way to bridge the gap between you two," he sighed finally. "There's just...I swear, that's practically my life goal these days, is figuring out how to get you two to some sort of understanding. I don't expect you to be best friends and take trips together," he grinned for an instant before his mouth turned down again, "but I'd like to get you to the point of at least tolerating each other for more than the time it takes to eat dinner."

"I don't see how you're going to succeed, Dick. We're just too different. But...can I say that I appreciate the effort you're putting into it without making you think that being friends with Damian is on my bucket list?"

"Sure," he chuckled. "But Timmy?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Something I've learned over the years is that our bucket lists often include things that we don't realize are there until we've achieved them."

He wanted to argue that there was no way a better relationship with the demon-child was skulking between the lines of his list, but he couldn't quite make the words come out. Maybe it was because he knew such an assertion would hurt Dick's feelings; maybe it was because there was a truth in the older man's comment that he wasn't ready to face. _I've been willfully denying enough truth lately,_ he decided, and opted to believe that the first reason for the block in his throat was the real one. "...Well, I guess we'll find out sooner or later."

A gentle smile told him that his hesitation had been noted, but would be allowed to slide for now. "Yup. Sooner or later, everything comes out. Until then, though," his expression brightened, "what do you say to some dinner?"

"It's kind of early, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but I'm starving. Besides, this way we'll have time to order room service dessert later. It's not like we need to worry about our waistlines, considering what we're heading out on tomorrow."

"True." Swinging his feet back to the floor, he pushed Damian, his bucket list, and everything that wasn't all about enjoying his reforged connection with his big brother out of his mind. "I could go for a burger, now that you mention it."

"Ooh...burger...yeah. That sounds good."

"Should we change, do you think?"

"For a burger? Nah. This place is nice, but it's not the Ritz."

"Let's go then." His stomach rumbled without warning, and he wondered for the briefest of seconds what secrets other than hunger were lurking within him. _Stop it,_ he ordered himself without letting the smile on his face so much as twitch. "...Apparently I'm more into the idea of dinner than I realized."

Dick just smirked. "Funny how that works, isn't it?"

* * *

**Author's Note: I've posted Tim's bison picture on my blog. Just a reminder, there won't be a new chapter on this story until Monday, since tomorrow I'll be posting the Father's Day chapter of 'Summer Shorts'. Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing, and happy reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

Tim stepped out of the bathroom the next morning to find his brother blinking blearily at him from the comfort of his bed. "Morning," he greeted, scrubbing a towel over his hair.

"Hey. Is that your day one trail outfit?" Dick joked.

He glanced down at the pair of boxers that were all he put on so far. "It would save on laundry, that's for sure."

"The bug bites would be atrocious, though."

"Ugh," he cringed. "I'd prefer _not _to think about trying to subtly scratch certain areas when we get home, thanks."

"Aw, you don't want to spend the day imagining Alfred's disdainful glare?"

"Nope. Definitely not." Tossing his towel aside, he lifted his pack onto the mattress and began to dig through it. "What do you think?" he asked, pulling out two pairs of pants. "Convertibles for the first day?"

Dick dissolved into laughter. "...I want you to know that I'm picturing you wearing a Ferrari right now."

He snorted. "That would be a little heavy to lug into the backcountry."

"Yeah, but if we got tired you could just take your pants off and drive them."

"The Park Service might have something to say about that. Seriously, though, help me. What should I start with?"

"Okay, okay. I'd go with the solids. We've got that orientation thing before we can start out, and the first part of the trail is forested besides. The mosquitoes will probably be the worst today and tomorrow, in which case you're not going to want shorts."

"Cool. Thanks." He shuffled halfway into the selected garment, then broached another question. "...Did you sleep okay?"

"You ask that like you think the answer's going to be no," Dick frowned.

"I think you had a couple nightmares. You were kind of thrashy."

"Oh. Sorry," a bashful shrug apologized. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I know. It's okay, I just wanted to check." Bad dreams were something that no one in the family was immune to, and as such he could hardly hold the events of last night against the other man. "What were they were about, anyway?"

"Hmm...you know, I don't remember anything about them."

"That's weird." Bruce had trained them all to be able to recall their dreams more or less at will under the pretense that solutions to tricky questions sometimes presented themselves only during slumber. As the eldest Dick had had more practice utilizing that skill than the rest of the Robins, so for him to be unable to pull up any details whatsoever was worrisome. "What's with that?"

"Eh," the concern was waved away. "Who knows? Maybe I'm just so relaxed and ready for vacation mode that my brain didn't bother trying to focus on what was going on in dream-world. Or maybe I just knew it wasn't anything important. Either way," he sat up and pushed his blankets aside, "it doesn't matter. It was just a bad dream, and it's gone now."

"...Okay," Tim let it go. If Dick wasn't going to fret over it, neither was he. "At least I shouldn't have to worry about you having more of those in the tent," he jested. Plenty of multi-night stakeouts had taught him that Nightwing didn't tend towards nightmares if there was someone he could reach out and touch for reassurance. Their beds had been too far apart for that last night, but in their narrow two-man trail tent they'd be hard pressed to avoid even unintentional contact.

"True, but you might have the opposite problem instead. You know I'm a cuddle monster in my sleep. In fact, I think I killed one of the hotel's pillows last night with an over-squeeze."

"Heh. At least I won't have to worry about getting cold. Besides, you can only invade my space so much from the confines of your sleeping bag."

"Good point." Standing, Dick yawned. "...You done in the bathroom? There's no way I want to hit the road without a shower under my belt."

"Yeah, go for it. I'll run and get us coffee from downstairs."

"Awesome. Thanks."

"You're welcome." He rolled his eyes good-naturedly as his brother walked by and scraped his hand over the top of his still-damp head. "Thanks for ruining my hair, by the way."

"The hair you hadn't combed yet? You're welcome."

"I was going for a bedhead look," he retorted.

"Then I didn't ruin it, did I?" They smirked at one another for a moment. "...See you in twenty, little brother."

Tim shook his head as the bathroom door shut. He didn't know what it was about Dick that made him so damned easy to get along with, but he supposed it didn't really matter. They were together, he smiled as he pulled on a t-shirt, and that was all he intended to care about for the next eight days.

* * *

Several hours later they left their briefing with a packet of paperwork in hand and a spring in their step. The three-decades-old film they'd had to sit through had only sharpened their eagerness to get going despite its dire warnings about bears, flash floods, and rock falls, and the ranger who had checked their gear afterward had been pleasant, too.

Tim had enjoyed that part of the orientation in particular; the girl was cute, and her review had given him one final opportunity to obsess over every piece of equipment they'd brought before they struck out on their own. Seeing the neat line of check marks running down the side of her list had given him the same sense of satisfaction that perfect scores on essays and exams imparted, and he had swelled with pride.

"Well, I'd say you're ready for just about anything that could possibly happen out there," she had commented, and he'd agreed. Their formidable nightwork résumés alone would have been enough to see them through everything short of a full-blown apocalypse, but with all the tools they were carrying besides he was confident that they could build a suitable semblance of civilization if need be. She hadn't known that, of course, but that didn't make her praise of his job-well-done any less flattering.

A friendly nudge snapped him back to the present. "Thinking about Ranger Jane back there?" Dick teased.

"No," he blushed slightly. "And her name was Karen, not Jane."

"So you weren't thinking about her, but you noticed her name."

"It's common courtesy, _Dick_."

"Aww…" Tim glanced over to make sure that he hadn't actually hurt his brother's feelings with his pun, and received a reassuring wink. "That's okay. One of these times you'll say yes, you _are _thinking of someone, and that will be a good day, so I'm gonna go ahead and keep on asking."

"You're playing a dangerous game there, inquiring about other people's love lives," he replied. "…Is this the path to the bus stop?"

"Um…" Dick peered at the sign they'd drawn up to, then nodded. "Yeah. Camper bus number…7? That's what the paperwork says, right?"

Rifling through the thick packet Karen had given them, he found the instructions on how to get to their start point. "Yup. Number seven. Leaves in fifteen minutes."

"Great. Plenty of time to walk a quarter mile." They turned in the proper direction. "To return to your less-than-subtle comment, it might be a dangerous game, but at least by playing it I might hear some positive news about _someone's_ love life."

"…Still batting zero on that front, then?"

"Oh, yeah. Every time I manage to connect with the ball, it goes foul. But," he bucked himself up, "I've just got to keep swinging. Babs is stubborn, but sooner or later I'll at least manage to get on base."

"I guess the question is, how long do you keep trying to tag the same baseball before you pick another one out of the bucket?"

"Hmm…I think the better question is, why go back for a lower-quality ball when the first one you picked was top of the line?"

_Because you might connect with one of the 'lower-quality' ones without wasting years of your life in the attempt,_ he bit back. Saying something like that really _would_ hurt Dick's feelings, he knew. Besides, his brother deserved a 'top of the line' woman, and in his opinion it was a slightly wonky ball, not a lack of skills or effort on the part of the batter, that had so far prevented the home run the other man was questing for. "I guess it's like anything else in life that's really worth having," he said slowly. "You've got to work for it."

"Exactly!" Dick tried to sling an arm over his shoulder, but his load got in the way. "…I just found a major problem with this whole 'carry everything on your back' idea."

"No half-hugs until we take a break?"

"Yup. No half-hugs. Oh, well." A hand landed on Tim's head without warning and ruffled his hair for the second time that morning. "There. That'll work."

"Because you couldn't have waited until we got to the bus," he pointed to the large green vehicle that had just come into sight through the trees, "and just hugged me there."

"Ah…no. Apparently not. But hey, that bedhead look is really working out for you!"

He laughed. "I take it you're going to be my stylist for the next week, then?"

"Ack, dahling, you're _fabulous_!"

They boarded their shuttle wearing matching smiles and took up seats across the aisle from each other, thinking to have views of both sides of the road. Tim pulled his camera out of his bag before it went into the luggage corral at the rear and held it on his lap, hoping that he would have a reason to use it during their two-hour journey into the park. "Is no one else coming?" he wondered out loud when the driver started the engine after a few minutes. While they were the only people who held the coveted Asperity Falls passes this week, the bus was scheduled to stop at several other trailheads and campgrounds beyond the end of the public road. "I can't believe we're the only people on board."

"A lot of them might have gone out early this morning," Dick postulated. "…Wait, here comes a group. Aaand now they're running towards us." A minute later three middle-aged couples climbed aboard, settled their gear, and sat down near the front, chattering all the way. As soon as they were done arranging themselves the door shut and they pulled away from the curb. "…Hey, Timmy?"

"Yeah?" he answered, his voice trembling slightly. Everything up to this point – the dozens of hours spent preparing their bodies and their kits, the flight and the drive yesterday, even the briefing and the jaunt to the bus stop they had completed only a short while ago – suddenly felt like nothing more than prelude to the grand adventure ahead. Now the only form of transport they had any control over was their own feet; in a few minutes they would pass out of good mobile range, and their communication options would drop to almost nil. Such isolation wasn't a situation that either of them was unfamiliar with, but to enter into it as civilians and with no end goal other than enjoyment made Tim's scalp crinkle with excitement. "What's up?"

"It's for real now."

His own enthusiasm was reflected in his brother's eyes, and he suddenly had the inexplicable urge to squeal. He held it back with effort, substituting an unusually broad grin in its place. "It is. It's…really real now." Pausing, he turned back to the window, where the visitor's center and its many parking lots had already given way to a wall of trees. "…We're on our way."

* * *

**Author's Note: We'll be back to Dick's POV and on the trail tomorrow. Happy reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

Dick pulled up his hood and pouted at the sky as the shuttle turned around behind them. "Rain, rain, go away," he shook an imperious finger at the sky. "Come back in no less than seven days." The flat gray ceiling had started spitting water as soon as they'd crested the last ridge and begun their descent to the end of the road, and he wasn't happy about it. It had been gloriously sunny at the visitor's center and through the first hour of their drive, so why, he griped, did it have to be raining _here_?

"It's okay," Tim opined as they headed for the protection of a small wooden pavilion. "It's not like we aren't prepared for a drizzle."

"Well no, but..." _But_ _I wanted it to be perfect_. There were several stream crossings along their path, he knew, and a bad storm could make the trail impassable before they even set out. As if that weren't enough, expressionless clouds like the ones currently overhead never failed to dampen his mood, regardless of the occasion. They reminded him too much of the somber atmosphere that had surrounded the funerals of his parents and, more recently, of Bruce, neither of which were events he liked to recall.

His brother didn't seem to mind the weather, though, and he realized that the only real risk to their enjoyment of the trip was the attitudes they chose to have about it. Shaking his head, he pulled himself back into line as best he could. "Alright," he gave a tiny laugh. "Sorry. I'm done moping."

"Good. You in a bad mood…that's just plain unpleasant."

"Uh-oh," he almost smirked.

"What?"

"You just voiced a Damianism."

Tim wrinkled his nose. "I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear that."

"Really? You can't even agree on _one little thing_?"

"Well…maybe on _that_ 'one little thing'. But it was a statement of fact, so I'm not sure it counts the same."

"Party pooper." They shrugged off their packs and dropped onto the rough wooden bench. "On a not-Damian-related note, what do you want to do now? Should we get started, or wait for the rain to quit?"

"Hmm…I could eat, to be honest."

His own stomach voiced its approval. "Lunch sounds like a plan."

"I read that there are a couple of camp spots a few hundred yards up the trail. If the rain doesn't let up soon, we could always bunk here tonight and get started in the morning."

It wasn't a bad idea, although Dick hated the thought of losing a half-day at the falls. Then again, he mused, he'd be with Tim either way, and that was the whole point. "Okay. Why don't we walk up and take a look while we eat?" Everything they'd brought for day-time snacking could be managed with one hand, and at least that way they'd be checking out new territory instead of just lounging at the bus stop.

"We can do that. I don't suppose the peanut butter bars are near the top?"

"Are you kidding? They're _on_ top." As the party responsible for figuring out how they would feed themselves for a week in the middle of nowhere, Dick had naturally enlisted Alfred's help. He had been more than willing to assist in the project, and the two of them had spent many weekend afternoons in the kitchen trying recipes and practicing the best way to pack it all. In the end almost every item that had gone into their bear-proof food containers had been lovingly mixed, baked, or dried by the butler. While it was all sure to be delicious, there could be no question that the super-sweet energy bars Tim had asked for were going to be the first things that vanished. "Those things are amazing, I wasn't going to bury them."

"Oh, good. I've been craving them ever since the trial batch."

"Me, too. If I had Wally's metabolism, I'd eat nothing _but_ those."

"Better not introduce him to them. He'll cause a global peanut butter shortage."

"Heh. No kidding." Unscrewing the last security bolt on the 'breakfast and lunch' can, he popped the lid off. "…Hey, what's this?"

"Huh?" Tim leaned in. "Is that a note?"

"Yeah." He unfolded it to find a few lines in Alfred's stately cursive. "'Dear young sirs,'" he read aloud, "'I hope this letter finds you well and with a good start to your journey already under your belts. I have managed to squeeze a little something extra into the bottom of your larder-'"

"Excellent," a murmur came from beside him.

"'-that I think you'll enjoy. However, I must ask that you wait until midway through your adventure to unwrap it.'"

"Damn!"

"'Be safe, make good memories together, and keep yourselves hydrated and fed. I shall know if you fail on that last point.'" Dick laughed. "He would, too. 'Yours faithfully, Alfred.'"

"…Well, I wasn't expecting _that_."

"Me, either. A surprise, though…huh." Curious, he tucked the note into his pocket and began to stack all of their foodstuffs on the bench.

"Don't do it," Tim warned even as he reached in to help empty the bin. "He'll know. He _always_ knows."

"I'm not going to unwrap it. I just want to…crap." He frowned downward. "He put a piece of cardboard on top of it."

Tim's forehead bumped his cheek as he tried to look, too. "…What's that written on it?"

"'Please do not remove until the 23rd.'"

"_Please_? He wrote 'please'? Seriously?"

"Yup." With a barrier in place they couldn't even prod the wrapping to try and narrow down the list of possibilities. "I wish I had Uncle Clark's x-ray vision about now."

"You're not the only one. I guess we're stuck waiting until we get to the falls to find out what our surprise is. Although..."

"But what?" Dick felt a flash of hope. If anyone could figure out a way to work around one of Alfred's security measures and not get caught, it was Tim. "Do you have an idea? I think he taped the cardboard in place, so that's going to complicate things."

"...What? Oh. No, I wasn't thinking about that. All he'd have to do would be ask us if we got into whatever it is early and we'd crack, you know. I was just going to say that at least the rain is stopping."

"Oh. You're probably right." Then his brain caught up with the last statement that had been made. "Wait..." Looking up, he spotted a tiny patch of blue, and his outlook instantly brightened. "Oh! The clouds are clearing off? Yes!" If the rain stayed away, they were golden. "Here, let's get this stuff back where it goes so we can hit the trail."

After several fumbling attempts to recreate Alfred's packing methods, they struck on something close to the right arrangement and managed to jam the lid back on the container. A minute later they headed into the trees with their mouths full of peanut butter. "He'd kill us if he knew we were walking and eating at the same time," Tim gave a nervous grin.

"Ooh..." Dick halted as he thought of something. "...If he redid the bear cans, that means he found the marshmallows I packed."

"How did you fit _marshmallows_ in there with all of the other stuff?"

"I put some mini ones in a baggie. They'll be kind of squished, but I thought we could put them on little twigs and cook them over the stove burner."

"...That's both amazing and ludicrous at the exact same time."

"I know, right?! I just hope he didn't pull them out when he found them..." He peeked over his shoulder at the pack on his back, seized by the urge to go through the second container and make sure his secret stash was still there. "He wouldn't, right? He wouldn't take our stuff, even if he didn't approve."

"Now maybe you understand why I went through my inventory every night," Tim said.

"Yeeeah, I totally do. But," he faced forward again, "it's okay. I'll check on them when we stop for the night. If they aren't there, there's not much I can do about it."

"True. Speaking of tonight, do you want to push now that the rain's stopped?"

He tilted his head back. The clouds were scattering faster with each second, leaving a field of cerulean in their wake. "If you're up for it, I am." He ached to be somewhere truly isolated, away not only from everyone they knew but from the whole of humanity. Even Batman's best drones would be hard pressed to find them once they had ventured a mile or two from the road, and while he had no desire to run from their mentor there was something to be said for managing to duck his surveillance on occasion. "Lots of people have slept here," he pressed, "but up there...maybe _no one's_ stayed where we'll stay tonight."

"You don't have to convince me. I'm ready to knock out a few miles."

Dick felt a grin unfurl on his face. "Then let's get walking."

They had decided previously that they would set a slow-to-moderate pace the first day, aware that no number of four-hour hikes on the Manor property could truly prepare them for a week of traversing rugged western terrain. The trail was advertised as a five-day round trip, but he had put in for two extra days on their passes as a precaution. In the best case scenario they would have forty-eight glorious hours to spend at the secluded falls; in the worst, there was cushion time to help them reach their goal without undue strain and stress.

Since they could afford to take things easy and enjoy their surroundings, they did. Their first peanut butter bars were gone before they reached the two small campsites mentioned in their guide, and a mile after that they stopped long enough to each grab another. The air lost its cool edge almost as soon as the sky cleared, and between the heat and their exertions they were quickly made appreciative of the shade provided by the forest. Before long they came upon a few mule deer, who looked up from grazing when they heard the jingling of the bear bells attached to their belts. Tim's camera appeared with lightning speed to capture them while Dick stood by and took in the clever way their ears and tails flicked away flies. Unphased by the low whirring of the shutter, the creatures modeled themselves in their small glen for several minutes before they bounded away on some secret task.

"...Did you get them?" he asked.

"Oh, man...I can't wait to see some of these on the computer. Look."

He gave a low whistle. "That's wicked, right there. Nice shot, bro."

"Thanks. I didn't even get butt this time, can you believe it?"

"Hah! I don't know," he teased. "You didn't show me the other ones."

"There's no butt, trust me. I don't want a reputation as a butt photographer."

"Yeah, I don't blame you. There's only two kinds of butt photographers I've ever heard of; the ones who end up in jail, and the ones who have to make up a fake career to tell their in-laws about at Thanksgiving."

"Hmm...no, I'm definitely good without having either of those problems."

Some of the allure of the deep forest faded two miles from the road when they dipped into their first thicket and stirred up a swarm of mosquitoes. "Ugh, that _sound_," Tim moaned as an incessant buzzing surrounded them.

"I knew we were forgetting something," Dick grimaced as he swatted a buzzing black dot away from his ear.

"I wondered why we didn't both reek. Now I know the-" He broke off, sputtering.

"...Did you eat it?"

"Don't ask."

Wincing in sympathy, he gestured for the younger man to turn around. He yanked a bottle of bug dope from one of his bag's side pockets, and in a minute he'd sprayed every inch of his brother that he could. "That should help," he promised, then turned the mixture on himself. "...Ah, sweet DEET."

"The biting's stopped, but I wish we could make them shut up."

"I didn't think to pack earplugs. Did you?"

"No. I'll know for next time, though."

"...We could book it." The organic white noise was starting to get to him, too, and they didn't dare risk _both_ losing their heads

"Yeah, let's do that. Just keep your mouth closed. They don't crunch in a good way."

He shuddered. "Got it."

They hustled along until they reached a trickling creek that required nothing more than a weak leap to ford. A steep but short ascent followed, and as they broke out of the brush at the top their plague suddenly abated. The rustling leaves of the well-spaced deciduous giants they'd come into congratulated them, and they stood for a moment to regain their breath.

"...Damn, those things kicked...our asses," Tim panted. "Didn't think we'd need... to _run..._with these packs on."

"It's weird," Dick puffed back. "They don't really weigh much more than...our costumes...but that was _hard_."

"Yeah. Maybe...weight distribution?"

"Maybe. Bruce'd know." Straightening, he took a deep, mercifully bug-free breath. "Whew. What'd we just cover, like a half-mile?" Jogging such a short distance was usually nothing, but his legs and lungs were protesting this new exertion. "Felt like more."

"I think it was about a half. If I remember the map right, that stream we crossed was about two and a half or three miles in from the road, so..."

"What's that give us left total, twenty, twenty-one miles?"

"Right around there. Why, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I dunno, are you thinking that in between these trees would make a pretty sweet place to camp?"

"I didn't know you were a mind reader."

"Eh, it comes and goes," he joked. "We'll probably want a little extra time to set up camp tonight, and this is a pretty spot." They had practiced making and breaking camp a dozen times on the front lawn, but there was no predicting what might slow that process now that they weren't surrounded by professional landscaping. Besides, the late-afternoon light was slanting through the canopy at an angle that made a person want to curl up at the base of a tree and bask, and he couldn't imagine a better enticement to stay put.

"We will, and it is," Tim concurred.

"Awesome." Dick hitched his backpack a little higher on his shoulders. "Then let's find ourselves a campsite."

* * *

**Author's Note: Provided that the power doesn't go out for another three hours this morning (which is the reason I'm posting later than usual), I should have Tim's deer picture up on my blog shortly. Happy reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

Tim's contribution to the journey had been assembling their toolkit – the tent, sleeping bags, cooking apparatus, and other paraphernalia they would need on the trail – and he had taken it as seriously as he took every task he was assigned. He had spent hours doing product research online and in person, and on more than a few dozen evenings since Christmas Dick had gone looking for him only to find him hard at work on spreadsheets full of complex calculations. The younger man had claimed that all the formulas and coded lists would help him determine the best gear for their purposes, but he had just chuckled kindly at such 'typical Timmy' behavior and gone about his own business.

As they made camp, however, he was reminded why he had passed the job to his little brother to begin with. The tent went up like a dream, rising with even less effort than it had taken them on their practice runs at home. The ground pads began to perform their self-inflating magic as soon as they were unfurled, and the sleeping bags fit atop them perfectly. What had looked like a cramped space when it was located in front of a fifteen-thousand-square-foot mansion ended up feeling pleasantly cozy against a backdrop of towering birch trees, and he nodded his satisfaction. "You made good choices with all of this stuff, bro," he called over his shoulder.

"Mm…we'll know for sure if it rains again, or gets cold or windy or-"

"Shh!" he cut him off. "Don't tempt it! Besides, I have confidence in your math. It looks so comfy in there that I almost want to try it out right now."

"You'd better eat first. Remember Alfred's imperative?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere near bed until I'm ready to sleep. There's way too much to enjoy out here, and I have a feeling I wouldn't wake up until morning no matter how good my intentions might be otherwise." With that he zipped the door shut and made his way to where Tim had pulled out their utensils. "How's dinner coming along, anyway?"

"…Well, we have a way to cook it now," he announced as he held up their small stove.

"Ta-da! Awesome."

"So where are we doing this?"

Dick jerked his head towards the trail. "I noticed a big boulder about a hundred yards ahead. We'd be far enough from the tent there."

"Somebody was paying attention in the bear briefing," Tim smirked. "Worried?"

"No. I just didn't figure you wanted to have an excuse to find out how effective the pepper spray you picked out is."

"…Yeah, I'd prefer that the efficacy of that particular piece of equipment remain a mystery to me for all time. I'm not a fan of not getting surprised by large furry things with claws. The boulder it is."

Carrying their bear canisters, the stove, and a small pot into which fit their plates, cups, and forks, they made their way towards the long, low rock Dick had spotted on their way in. "Hey, this is better than I thought," he said as they drew close.

"There are plenty of flat spots for cooking, at least."

"Heck, there's room to eat on top of it. We won't even have to sit in the dirt." To prove his point, he clambered up without setting his load down. "...Ooh, it's warm up here. Like, a nice warm; it's not the car roof all over again."

"That's a plus. Here, take the stove; I don't want to risk banging it on anything." A second later he, too, stood above the earth. "Nice. Dinner with a view."

They decided on curried rice, and thanks to the instructions Alfred had written on the side of the bag holding the dry mixture they were eating in less than ten minutes. "Omgod..." Dick slurred over the first bite.

"So good," Tim answered in an equally reverent voice.

"Alfred, god of cooking," he intoned jokingly as he held up his plate towards the east, "we offer our sincerest thanks."

"Somewhere in the house he just said 'you're very welcome' and doesn't know why."

"Hehe. I hope Bruce and Dami didn't hear. They'll think he's losing it."

They fell silent after that, too busy shoveling rice into their mouths to talk. Dick hadn't realized how ravenous their short trek had made him until he'd caught a whiff of spice and chicken bouillon, and now he ate at a pace that would have earned him a horrified look had he tried it at the dinner table. Starting out, he worried that there wouldn't be enough food to fill them both up; as he reached the bottom of his serving, however, his concern shifted to what they were supposed to do with leftovers. The beast in his gut was more than satisfied with what he'd given it, but he didn't dare stop until his plate was clean...

"Ugh," Tim fell back to lie against their stone cushion. "So full. Stomach...near explosion point..."

"Join the club," he groaned.

"Is it possible to eat so much in one sitting that you actually rupture something, do you think?"

"Not for a healthy person. Well..." he reconsidered "maybe it is. I know people who have been starving can die from food overload. But we're not starving, so I don't think we hit that point. Even if it feels like we did." Stacking his plate on his brother's, he leaned back against his hands and tried to think of anything other than the acute overage warnings that were radiating from his midsection. "...Too bad we won't be able to see stars tonight. The trees will be in the way."

"Yeah...tomorrow, though, we'll be in the clear."

"Yup. Any idea how far it is to the edge of the forest from here?" The path to Asperity Falls was mostly located above timber, he recalled, and once they had left the forest they were in tonight there would be little to block their view of the sky.

"Maybe another mile? It's not far."

"Cool." They lay for a while longer, digesting and giving the occasional burp as their beleaguered stomachs adjusted to the huge load they had dropped on them. "We should clean up and stash the food," Dick ventured finally.

"Mm...is it getting dark?"

He looked over to find that Tim had crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. "Sunset should be in an hour or so, but it'll be hard to see in here before then."

"Meh...okay. I'm up."

Once they were moving about their malaise lifted. It was no chore to clean their dishes, and as Tim went to broadcast the dirty water in the brush a distance away Dick set about repacking the bear container. The space that had been vacated by their meal would just barely be sufficient to accept their plates and forks, which were now scent-bearing despite the hot rinse they'd received, but everything would have to be organized differently for the trick to work. Midway through the can he came across a familiar plastic baggie and gave a hoot of joy. "Hey, Timmy!"

"Hey, what?" was called back at him.

"Come see what I found!" He watched, grinning and bursting now with both curry and joy, as his brother returned from his expedition. "Look," he presented the bag. "Marshmallows!"

"...That's great, and I'm sure I'll be more excited about it later, but _please_ tell me you don't want to eat them tonight. Because I'll die, Dick. I really, really will."

"You say that like you think I have any more room for them than you do. The point is that they're _here_, though!" Smiling once more at the small white cylinders of sugar he'd packed halfway across the country, he set them aside with the rest of the things he'd pulled out. "...He must have heard me, huh?"

"You mean your whole 'praise Alfred, giver of good grub' bit?"

"Yeah. That's why he gave the marshmallows back," he joked. "But...'grub'? Are you channeling Wally? Because that's definitely a Wally word, right there. Actually..." He ducked his head and chuckled suddenly, remembering something.

"...What?"

"I was just thinking...did you know that he once made me teach him how to say things like 'food, please' and 'I'm hungry' in every language I knew? Even in Romani."

"Seriously? Clark would have to be concussed to send anyone other than you on a mission involving the Roma," Tim frowned.

"I know, but he insisted. He said you never know what's going to happen and that if he ended up in a camp somehow he wanted to make sure he'd be able to eat."

"I like Wally and all, but that's just ridiculous. Patting your stomach and gesturing to food is practically a universal symbol!"

"Hey, it's Wally. The only thing that comes above his appetite on the priority list are his friends and family. To be honest, sometimes I think he'd bump his friends down a notch if he was hungry enough."

"...It must suck to be a slave to your metabolism like that."

"Yeah, I guess. On the other hand, he gets some pretty sweet perks. Right now, for example," he swung his arm to indicate the array of foodstuffs spread out on the rock, "I wouldn't mind being able to put all of this back at super speed."

"Well if you stopped talking and tried putting it back even at _regular_ speed, maybe you'd get somewhere."

Dick gaped in false disbelief at the playful taunt. "You say that to the person who spent so many hours coming up with a menu just for this trip, and then even agreed to carry it all on his back..." He crossed his arms and shook his head. "For shame."

"Yeah, it _is_ pretty awful how you stole Alfred's credit just now."

"Stole Alfred's-" he sputtered. "...Hehe. Okay, little brother, now you're gonna get it."

"What are you going to do, withhold my breakfast? Because I'm pretty sure that would be enough to get you banned from peanut butter bars forever, and I know you don't want that."

It was all play, of course, and he had no intention of refusing his sibling food at any point in the trip, but he _had _been planning to threaten as much. Now that that option was gone, he was forced to play dirty. "No," he upped the ante, "I'm not going to touch your meals. Instead, I'm going to eat one of your marshmallows."

"Oh, the horror!"

"Yes, the horror, indeed." He was on a roll now, and kept his expression assertive as he went on from atop his rugged throne. "Not only will a tax of one marshmallow be levied on your head, but you will also be forced to witness the pomp and ceremony when I am awarded with _extra_ peanut butter bars for having saved you from a sugar overdose at the hands of one of Alfred's most detested enemies."

"The dastardly marshmallow?"

"The dastardly marshmallow," he nodded gravely.

They held each other's gaze for a long second before Tim burst out laughing. "I don't...know how...you're keeping a st-straight face," he guffawed. "That was _hilarious_..."

It took every ounce of will that he had, but Dick managed to not give in to the chortle that was filling his throat. When Tim looked up again, caught sight of his haughty, wide-eyed stare, and doubled over anew, he could hold himself back no longer. "Heeheehee...I dunno h-how I did _either_," he confessed, almost falling from his perch as he shook with amusement. "Just...had to see your _face_..."

It took several minutes, but eventually they calmed to the point where they could pack up their food. They had to stop to lean against one another in fresh fits twice on their way to stash the canisters in the brush, and they were still snickering as they walked back down the trail to their tent. By the time they had tucked their much-deflated packs beneath the rain fly, stripped down to underwear and t-shirts, and crawled into their sleeping bags, a velvety dusk was cloaking the trees. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance, but other than that and the ever-present shifting of the leaves high above the forest was quiet.

"...Okay, now _these_ were a good choice," Tim said as he tested out his ground pad.

"Agreed. It feels like the couch in Bruce's study."

"Shit, you'll sleep like a baby, then, with as often as you fall asleep on that old thing."

"Hey, some weeks invading his study is practically the only way a person can see him without the cowl on."

"Tell me about it. I've fallen asleep in there before too, remember."

"Yeah...he's a dork."

"He is. But we all are." A beat passed. "Except Damian. He's just a tool."

"Tiiimmy...c'mon. It's not his fault."

"...Dick, if he's old enough to make a conscious decision about whether or not to kill someone, he's old enough to choose to not be an asshole."

He sighed. This wasn't a conversation he'd intended for them to get into tonight, but so long as Tim had started it he wasn't going to back down without lending his youngest brother at least a modest defense. "Look," he started, trying to figure out a way to keep his explanation simple and inoffensive. "Dami grew up surrounded by people who didn't want to get to know him. You know that. He was a tool – _not _in the way you meant it – to them, and nothing more. The few who didn't purposefully push him away were ambivalent towards him, and when people do that to you long enough...well, you get so that you don't want to share yourself.

"You stop trying," he breathed, staring up at their shelter's shadowy apex, "and you lock yourself up. Then, when someone comes along and _does_ take an interest in you, in the _real_ you, it's hard to trust them. Now when that happens to some people," he gave the figure next to him a sidelong look, "they put up a wall of polite civility and try very hard to convince you that there's nothing interesting going on behind it. I think you know what I mean." A grudging noise told him that he wasn't wrong. "But Dami's an attacker, not a defender. He doesn't build walls, he sallies forth and does his best to drive interested parties as far away as he can.

"But you can only ride out so many times before you get tired, the same as you can only keep walls fully guarded for so long. If someone's determined...well, sooner or later they're going to get in," he smiled. "At least if they have the right resources and information, that is. My point is, Tim, you can't fault Dami for being an attacker; it's the only thing anyone ever took the time to teach him until not so long ago."

There was no reply for a long moment, and he began to wonder if he'd gone too far. Then a heavy sigh was heaved. "...He's better than he used to be. I'll give him that much. You've...you've done wonders with that kid, Dick. He's still an asshole – I'm not retracting that – but...well, maybe he's not quite so much of a colossal one as he used to be. Hell, he hasn't tried to _actively_ kill me in almost a year, at least not that I know of, so...that's saying something, I guess."

"It _is _saying something," he nodded, relieved that he hadn't screwed everything up with his monologue. "The fact that you just recognized his improvement says something, too."

"Yeah. That I'm probably an idiot."

"No," he reached out to touch his elbow. "It says that you can put the past aside and recognize changing circumstances. It says that you can take new information about the people you consider..." He didn't want to say 'enemies,' because he knew from experience that putting that word between any two members of his family hurt dreadfully. "...Not to be your allies and apply it in a way that helps you better understand how they operate. That's an amazing skill, Timmy, and you're one of the best I've ever met at it. Don't tell him I said this, but...sometimes I think you're better at it than even Bruce is." _That's how I know you and Dami can get to some greater level than animosity,_ he kept to himself. _That's where I've placed my faith, little brother._

A stunned but grateful glance was sent his way. "...Now _that's_ saying something," a low whisper wondered.

"It's true," he smiled. "You know I wouldn't have said it if I didn't believe it to be true."

"I know."

"Good. Anyway...we should probably get some sleep, huh? Long day tomorrow." _Think about what I said,_ he urged silently. _Absorb it. You two aren't as different in some ways as you me; I know you both very, very well._

"Yeah," Tim agreed quietly. "We probably should. But Dick?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"...Thank you for bringing _me_ on this trip. I...that says something too, you know? That...that you picked me."

Dick squeezed his brother's arm tightly, then released him and rolled over. "There's no one on earth I could possibly be happier doing this with, Timmy," he swore as he closed his eyes. "Not a single soul."

* * *

**Author's Note: I've put the recipe for the curried rice up on my blog. Also, in a couple more chapters we'll get into the *real* adventure, so get ready! Thanks to everyone who has stayed with me this long, and double thanks to all you wonderful reviewers. Happy reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

Tim laid awake long after his brother's breathing had evened out into sleep. The compliment he'd been paid ran through his head on repeat, both pleasing and troubling him at the same time. To be compared to Bruce in a skill and come out on top was flattering; for such a judgment to come from Dick, who knew them both better than they knew themselves, was flooring. The problem was that he didn't know how to respond to the accolade. If he failed to do what he'd been applauded for and take what had been said about Damian's past into account in his dealings with him, he might prove unworthy of the honor he'd been given. On the other hand, it was going to be remarkably difficult to forgive the boy who had spent so much time sowing destruction and mayhem in his life, let alone to then take special pains to form some sort of positive relationship with him.

He had always envied the emotional intelligence of the man passed out beside him, but never more than he did tonight. Somehow Dick could put himself into almost anyone's shoes within seconds of meeting them, whereas he couldn't even begin to ask people about themselves without making things awkward or turning it into an interrogation. Tim knew that his own greatest trait was the Holmesian ability he shared with Bruce, the knack of glancing at a person once, maybe twice, and noting everything from the dandruff in their hair to the telltale specks of mud on their Jimmy Choos. The downside to such a skill was that he was so busy cataloging people's outsides that he often forgot about their insides. Dick didn't have that problem, and while part of Tim whispered that the grass was always greener on the other side of the fence most of him was just jealous.

He could hardly hold the other man's natural talent against him, though. It was simply who he was. As he thought as much, he let out an involuntary groan. _Dick's a lover, I'm a thinker, and Damian's...Damian's an attacker,_ he used the classification that had been assigned to the youth. _It's just...who we are. Shit._ That didn't mean that they couldn't change – after all, years of Batman's tutelage had given Dick a good eye for detail, he himself had picked up a few tricks in people-reading from his elder brother, and even the demon-child had proven he could improve his behavior – but it did mean that there were certain aspects of their characters that were set in stone. Barring major brain trauma, Damian was always going to be a prickly little son of a bitch. The key, it seemed, was to fit oneself in between his spines until he couldn't poke you without hurting himself.

How exactly he was supposed to do such a thing was a question that he didn't have the energy for just then, so he shelved it. Oddly satisfied with the progress he felt he'd made, he let his eyelids fall shut. It wouldn't have surprised him if he'd had difficulty getting to sleep, since he often did when he went to bed with a weighty issue on his mind. The next time he opened his eyes, however, it was to find delicate morning light suffusing the tent.

Dick had rolled close and thrown one arm across his stomach during the night, so he moved it carefully out of the way before trying to slip from his sleeping bag. His skin produced goosebumps instantly in the cool dawn air, but he didn't want to wake the other man by dressing in such close proximity. Snatching up his pants from where he'd left them, he unzipped the door and stepped out onto the dewy grass.

"Brr, brrbrrbrr, brrrrr..." he moaned quietly. Hopping from one bare foot to the other, he covered his legs and then shoved his boots on. A minute later he had extracted his pack from its sheltered spot under the rain fly and procured a sweatshirt and fresh socks. Sniffing himself, he decided he could go another day without changing his t-shirt and quickly finished dressing.

The best way to shake off his chills would be to move around, he knew, so he cast about for some chore to perform. His water bottle was near empty, and a brief exploration of his brother's luggage revealed a similar situation there. They had enough to make breakfast – maybe – but there was no doubt in his mind that they would need refills before they headed out on the day's hike. He glanced towards the dark line of alders that marked what he was privately calling Mosquito Creek and winced. Starting the morning with buzzing companions wasn't his idea of a good time, but if it saved them a few minutes getting started and put a smile on Dick's face besides then it would be worth it.

Bearing both of their bottles and his UV light water purifier, he set his jaw and started back towards the road. He'd doused himself in fresh bug repellant, but he prepared himself for the worst as he made his way down to the stream. Once there, he gave a sigh of relief. Whether due to the cooler-than-optimal temperatures of early morning or some other miraculous phenomenon, the insect hordes that had chased them out of the thicket the day before were nowhere to be found. A few sluggish flies hovered above the water, but that was the only wildlife around. Grateful for the reprieve, he straddled the fastest section of the course and filled their canteens as fully as he could.

Dick was up, dressed, and yawning outside the tent when he returned. "Hey," Tim greeted, then narrowed his eyes as he noted his lack of sleeves. "...How are you not freezing?" His walk hadn't gone as far as he'd hoped towards warming him, although he supposed that dunking his hands in the icy flow had had something to do with that. Still, he couldn't understand how the other man wasn't shivering the way he had been when he'd first risen.

"Old circus trick," an almost-sad smile answered. "If you're cold when you get up, you put on your shoes and go climb a tree."

"...Oh. Well, I'm glad you decided to put pants on, too," he joked, hoping to lighten the mood. "You might have regretted it otherwise."

"Heh. No kidding." Dick gestured towards the bottles. "Did you already exorcise the demons from that stuff?"

"Yes," he laughed. "Here."

A deep draw dropped the level in the first bottle by half an inch. "...Mmm. It doesn't get any colder or fresher than that."

He took a swig of his own and had to agree. The frigid liquid threatened to give his tongue frostbite, but he held it in his mouth anyway. Previous experience had taught him that wild-running water varied from source to source as much as wines did from vineyard to vineyard, and deserved to be tasted and savored the same way. Being too young to drink alcohol except on the rare occasions when Dick managed to convince Alfred to let him in on a preparatory tasting for a party, he had tried to whet his palate on tamer beverages. Of all the free-flowing water he'd sampled since he'd begun keeping track, this, he decided, was the best. "Good minerals," he said once he'd swallowed.

"But without tasting like pennies. I hate it when it tastes like pennies."

"Yeah, that's gross." The drink he'd taken traced a frosty line down his throat, and he shivered. "Damn. It's good, but it's _cold_."

Dick frowned. "...You want to climb a tree?"

"Not particularly. My fingers are so numb I'd probably fall out of it."

"Well, let's get some breakfast, then. Oatmeal and hot cider should thaw you out."

"I'm a fan of that idea."

An hour later he had peeled off his sweatshirt and had a pleasantly full stomach. They repeated the same clean-up they'd done the night before, each taking a peanut butter bar for their pockets so they wouldn't have to stop down the trail just to dig out a snack. Once they'd forced the air out of their ground pads and sleeping bags and bundled the tent into its compact carrying case, they stood together on the narrow path and looked around. "Well," Dick observed, "goodbye, camp one."

"Goodbye, Mosquito Creek." _Your water might be delicious,_ he allowed as he sipped the now lukewarm fluid, _but I'll never forgive you for your namesake._

"Is that what it's called?"

"Who knows? I didn't check the map or anything, but if it's _not_ called that then someone misnamed it."

"...Okay. I can buy that. Goodbye, Mosquito Creek. Here's hoping you don't have any twins between here and the falls."

"No kidding."

They turned away and started off. "Goodbye, cooking rock!" Dick waved at the boulder as they passed it. "Thanks for being an all-in-one kitchen."

"You know," Tim remarked, "if we'd brought the car's roof with us we could have just thrown it up there and used it as a griddle."

"Aw, we could have brought pancake mix and everything!"

"Campcakes."

"I like that. Campcakes."

"Me, too. Next trip, let's lug the top of an SUV with us."

"Hehe. I'm going to let _you_ carry that, I think. Although we could always use it as a sled."

"I'll tell you right now that I have no interest in hiking through the snow. This morning was enough cold for me, thanks. Besides, the metal wouldn't get hot enough to cook on in those temperatures."

"We could start a fire under it."

"We'd scorch our sled!"

"But we'd have campcakes to show for it."

"...That's a tough decision," he mused. "I don't think I'd be able to pick."

"Good thing you don't want to hike in the snow. Now you'll never have to choose." Dick reached out with one hand and mussed his hair. "Clever Timmy, figuring a way around a question that hadn't even been asked yet."

The morning went on like that, with the rises in the trail and the ribbing in their conversation staying equally gentle. The forest faded back until they found themselves crossing a wide, grassy plateau ringed by steep hills that bled into white-capped peaks. A soft breeze bearing a wintry crispness prevented the sun from becoming intolerable as it climbed higher into the sky. Keeping their eyes on the neat notch in the rocky escarpment ahead that marked the next stage of the journey, they strode on, both wearing goofily happy smiles that neither could quite manage to wipe off.

They lunched at the base of the short canyon they would be traversing that afternoon, spreading salmon and cream cheese on tortillas and watching the plain they had crossed undulate in the wind. Dick spotted a lone bull elk laying a few hundred yards from the trail in the shade of the cliff, and by using his camera's maximum zoom Tim managed to get a couple of shots he thought would prove decent with a little editing. They waited an extra minute to see if he would do anything more exciting, but he didn't oblige them. Agreeing that the animal had the right idea in staying where it was cool until the sun started to go down, they gave one final stretch, hoisted their packs, and headed into the shade between the worn stone walls carved out by a long-dead river.

Another expanse of grass lay at the top, this one broken up by a few stands of conifers. The mountains seemed closer here, but Tim couldn't be sure that it wasn't a trick of the eye brought on by the impossibly clear air and the mild high he was getting from his exertions and the grandeur sprawling in all directions. It didn't matter, he decided as a herd of pronghorn leaped away at their approach and Dick giggled at them like a delighted toddler. For all he knew this might have been a dream; it was far too perfect to be real, surely. Under normal circumstances the idea would have disturbed him, but in this place he just shrugged and joined in his brother's laughter. There would be time later, when the world was a cruel place again, for him to analyze everything. Now was about soaking it in, and nothing more.

They made camp that night on the far edge of the upper grassland, pitching their tent between two spindly pines. As he looked over their maps, Tim determined that they'd traveled roughly twelve miles that day, leaving them with only ten more to go to their destination. The last two-fifths of the route were supposed to be the most challenging sections, but then the people who had made that determination hadn't been Nightwing and Red Robin. Given that, he saw little reason why they couldn't fall asleep tomorrow with the roar of Asperity Falls in their ears.

"What's the plan in the morning, little brother?" Dick asked without looking up from the stove.

"I think we can do the rest in one day."

"Really?"

"Yeah. We knocked out almost half the trail today, and a fair portion of tomorrow is downhill. I don't know, what do you think?"

"Well I'm feeling fine and dandy, so I'm game."

"How's your foot?" The older man had pried his boot off almost as soon as they'd stopped, complaining of a blister on the underside of one toe. It was small, but it could easily slow them if it got worse.

"Eh, I've got a bandage and some moleskin both on it. Besides, if I can't power through a little thing like that then I don't deserve to wear a mask. It'll be fine."

"...Okay. But...you'll say something if you need to slow down, right?" As much as he wanted to reach their destination the following day, he didn't want to hurt his brother in order to do it. _I know you,_ he arched an eyebrow. _You'd hike with a shoe full of blood if you thought it would make me happy. _

"I promise, Timmy. I'll say something if it gets worse."

"Good." An idea struck as he watched him stirring their food, and he picked up his camera. "...I'm going to go see if I can get a sunset shot with the mountains," he said, standing up and steadying the camera hanging from his neck. "Be right back."

"Okay. This should be ready in five."

"Thanks. I won't be long." He wouldn't need to be, not for what he had planned. Walking out into the grass, he did what he'd said he was going to do and snapped off several pictures full of alpenglow and backlit clouds. Then he turned around and focused on Dick. There was just enough day left to make the trees and mountains behind his oblivious sibling clear, and the rapt concentration with which he was tending to the noodles in their single pot lent a humanity to the scene that no mere landscape photo could ever match. He pushed the shutter button once, and that was enough.

It was, he decided as they roasted tiny marshmallows after dinner, the single best picture he had ever taken.

They pulled their beds out and lay down in front of the tent once they'd cleaned up. Overhead the night closed in, and one by one the stars emerged. "...You forget how beautiful it is up there," Dick breathed. "In the city, I mean."

"Yeah," he sighed back. How many of those points of light, he wondered, played host to friendly species? How many hostile? How many more than they would never even know about? The numbers were too big even for his mathematically brilliant brain to comprehend, so skipped the arithmetic and began to search for anomalies instead. "...Ugh," he muttered in disgust as a white speck moved across his field of vision at a steady pace.

"What is it?"

"Satellite."

"...I guess we're not as alone as we thought out here."

"Maybe it's the JLA's. I could live with that."

"That would be okay. Anyone else...I'd rather it wasn't anyone else's." Dick paused. "Wouldn't it be funny if Batman was sitting up there on guard and happened to zoom in and see us laying here watching the stars?"

"...It would be very Batman," he snorted. He didn't mind the idea in theory, especially since he knew that there was a good chance the vigilante had secreted tracking devices somewhere amongst their gear. He wanted them to be the only people in the universe who were sharing this moment, though, and that wasn't the case if their mentor was watching them. "He wouldn't be," he realized with satisfaction. "It's patrol time at home, and he's not going to let Robin go out alone."

"...No, you're right. He wouldn't. Well...oh, well."

Minutes passed, and Tim grew more and more certain that he'd burst a bubble with his statement of fact about Batman's schedule. As close as Bruce and Dick were, he could imagine his hiking partner wanting to share this evening with the billionaire as much as he desired to keep it private. "Dick?" he ventured, intending to apologize for any unintentional hurt he might have caused.

There was no answer.

Frowning, he looked over. "You dork," he chuckled when he found the other man wrapped in his sleeping bag and fast asleep, his face still pointed at the stars. "...Dick," he shook him, "we can't stay out here all night."

"Why not?" was murmured back at him. "'Snice out here. Warm...sky...smells good...g'night..."

"Diiick..." But he'd dropped into oblivion again. "Well, shit." He could drag him inside, he supposed, but...but then he looked around at the starlit field and the galaxies sprawling above it. It _was_ nice, and warm, just like his brother had said. There were no clouds threatening rain, and between the heat of the day and the eternal movement of the air across the open area there was a good chance no dew would form. His mouth worked indecisively as he glanced towards the tent. The space that had looked comfortable and welcoming the night prior now came off as bleak and empty. A prison cell in the middle of a leisure park wasn't what he'd walked fifteen miles to find, so he gave in.

With a low hum, he rolled onto his side and pillowed his head on his bent arm. "...Okay, bro," he yawned as he closed his eyes. "You win."

* * *

**Author's Note: I'll be posting a personal piece in regards to wild drinking water on my blog later today, for anyone who's interested. I'll include a little about Tim's UV water purifier, as well, because those things really are like magic. Happy reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

"Tiiiimmy..." a teasing call woke him.

"Mmph...what?"

"It's morning, little brother."

"...Ugh." Everything he had was sore, from his toes to the back of his neck. Even the tops of his ears hurt for some reason he couldn't fathom in his half-conscious state. The only thing he wanted to do in his current state was go back to sleep.

"How'd you like sleeping under the stars?"

"Meh..."

"...'Meh'?"

He looked up at the sad tone that had come into Dick's voice. "No," he backtracked. "Not 'meh'. I didn't mind, honest." For all that sleeping outside hadn't been the smartest thing in the world for them to do, they'd gotten away with it, and when he ignored his body's various complaints he felt remarkably refreshed. "That part was...well, kind of nice, I guess. I'm just sore."

"Oh!" A grin flashed. "Yeah, I had that problem this morning, too. You know what will help?"

"...If you quote Bruce and suggest that I go for a run to loosen up, I _will_ punch you," he warned half-seriously.

"Well I was going to say breakfast and pills, but if you _want_ to go for a run..."

"Gaaah..." He yanked his sleeping bag over his head, but he was smiling. "No running! We have to climb today, do you realize that?"

"I noticed. That's why I made what I did this morning."

He peeked out cautiously at the man sitting cross-legged beside him. "...What'd you make?"

"Breakfast burritos with eggs, cheese, and smoked salmon. I also made coffee."

"...How did you get _eggs_ out here?" _Please don't tell me you climbed a tree and robbed some poor bird's nest this morning,_ he begged silently. _For one thing, that's just cruel. For another, they're probably rotten this late in the summer._

"They're crystallized. Don't make a face, they're good! They're way better than powdered eggs, at least."

"Well...okay." Walking over to the stove would help his muscles limber up if nothing else, and even if the burritos were awful the coffee would probably taste alright. "...I have to admit, it smells good over here," he confessed as they drew closer. "Almost too good. Are you hiding Alfred in your pocket or something?"

"Heh. No, but I _did_ spend a lot of time with him learning how to prepare all this stuff. I guess something like skill must have rubbed off on me."

Tim agreed after he'd taken his first bite. Somehow the flavors worked together, and when they were combined with the coffee he felt himself begin to truly wake up. His stomach was full by the time his last bite disappeared, but his brain craved more. "Do we have materials for another meal of that?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm," Dick nodded. "I figured we'd save it for the way back, when we really need the protein."

"And here I was going to suggest we have it for dinner."

"We can if you want, but we'll have to eat tuna patties for breakfast another day."

"Ew. No." Salmon he could handle first thing in the morning, but tuna was too much. "I'm good, thanks."

Camp came down just as easily as it had the day before, and by the time they were helping to lift each other's packs into place Tim was much less stiff than he had been when he'd woken. The ibuprofen he'd swallowed with the last of his coffee likely wasn't hurting that any, he reflected as they started on their way. So long as it did it's job, he could enjoy their walk.

As it turned out, he would have been too busy gasping for air to complain about the ache in his legs and back even if he hadn't taken anything for it. They had known they had to climb today, but neither had anticipated what that entailed. The start was misleading, made up of as it was of little five- and ten-degree tilts that were almost unnoticeable. Once they left the grassland behind and ventured into bare rock and scrub brush, however, the angles jumped into the twenties and thirties. At one particularly hellish spot they marched up what he was certain was a forty-five degree slope. It went on for three-quarters of a mile, but they didn't dare stop to rest until they reached the top for fear of being unable to get their momentum back.

Their lungs were crying for air when they finally completed their tortuous ascent. Judging from the wide spot in the otherwise faint and narrow trail that had been made here, they were far from the first hikers who had all but collapsed when they got to the summit. Tim gratefully joined the ranks of those who had gone before, dropping to his knees and shrugging off his load before he leaned back against it and closed his eyes. "Good thing that guide has such pretty pictures," he murmured.

"I know, right? Inspiration to keep going." A beat passed. "...It's downhill from here, right?"

"More or less, I think. Hold on..." Shifting around, he opened a side pouch and reached in for the book he'd received seven months earlier. As he did his gaze flickered out over the land they had yet to traverse, and he froze. "Holy shit."

"Oh, no. Is there more uphill?"

"No. Dick, _look_."

"Timmy, what..." There was rustling as his brother shifted around, and then silence. "...Oh, whoa..."

'Whoa' was right. Below them sprawled thousands of acres of pine-covered hills, rocky outcrops, and deep, narrow valleys. Examining the lay of the land, it was obvious how people could get lost in such a place and fail to be found by even the most dedicated search party.

There was one major landmark, however, that stood out above every other notable point in the panorama. A thick white line flashed in the late-morning sun, a trace of a rainbow showing near its bottom. Watching it, he could almost hear the rumble of water hitting rocks. "...Is that it?" he whispered, pointing. "Is that...is that the falls, do you think?"

"It's got to be," Dick answered in an equally low voice. "...Didn't the guide say anything about this? This is _amazing_."

"Huh-uh. I think it just said that there was a nice view from the top." He snorted. "Talk about an understatement."

"Yeah, I'm thinking the author might have been jaded to have not mentioned this...you've got to take a picture, Tim."

"It won't capture it," he shook his head. "Guaranteed, it won't capture it." Nothing possibly could, not when what they were looking out over was making their brains stutter to a halt.

"Maybe not, but...who knows what the view will be like from below? The next time we see the water it might be too close to get a shot of the whole thing. Don't you want one like that?"

He had a point. Even though they had to come back along the same trail, there was no guarantee that the weather would be as good as it was today. In a place like this, everything could sock in in the next five minutes and veil the valleys beneath them in clouds and fog. There was no way he could imprison the spirit of such a landscape in a photograph, it was true, but that didn't mean he should waste a once-in-a-lifetime chance to try_._

For safety's sake he had put his camera away when the path had grown intense. Now he dug it back out, steadied it atop his pack, and maximized the zoom. At their distance anything else would have been a mere speck, but Asperity Falls was tall enough that it almost filled the frame. Closing his eyes, he pressed the shutter button.

"...And you said you couldn't capture it," Dick said beside his ear. A hand landed on his shoulder. "That's a fabulous shot."

"Thanks," he replied, risking a peek. It _was_ pretty good, but he still felt like something was missing. "...Maybe I'll try again, though. It could be better."

"You do that, and I'll work on lunch. I think we both earned double peanut butter bars after that climb."

"I won't say no to that," he nodded, and turned back to the viewfinder.

Several photos later he was neither more nor less satisfied with his success. His excitement, however, was rising anew. _At the end of the day,_ he mused, _we'll be there. Right __there__._ His skin tingled as if it was already being subjected to the cool spray he'd seen hovering at the terminus of the cascade, and the prospect was almost too much for him to handle with any sort of calmness.

With a fresh dose of pain medicine in his system and giddiness swelling in his chest, he stood a short time later and waited for Dick to finish tucking their food away. "Ready?" he asked when the last flap was buckled into place.

"Can I step away and take care of a little personal business first, Captain Eager?" the older man grinned.

"I guess if you _have_ to," he joked back. "But seriously, let's hurry."

"I'll be quick, I promise." Leaving his bag, he headed for the edge of the rise. "Be right back!" he waved just before he vanished.

"I get it, I get it," he chuckled. Turning away, he gazed out over the terrain they would be descending into for the rest of the day. The view arrested him once more, and several minutes passed as he studied it. Routes long ago scraped out by glaciers stood out at the base of the mountains, a few still sheltering little patches of snow. The deep slices made by alpine rivers glimmered in the bends through which the lifeblood of the region slipped by. Forests grew in some areas but skipped others, creating a patchwork of trees, grass, and stone.

It was so beautiful, he ventured, that even Damian would have had to agree with him on that point were he standing here right now.

Dick surfaced from over the ridge, interrupting his thoughts. "Okay," he started. "Let's get this show on th-"

Suddenly, Tim was on the ground. "Ow," a complaint exited his mouth as his knees slammed into bare rock. "What the hell?" The world had given a jolt without warning, he realized. _An earthquake, maybe? It must have been. Ugh._ They were far from his favorite natural phenomenon, in part because there was no way of knowing when one was coming, and for one to have intruded on a perfect day like today made his flesh crawl. "...Dick, you okay?" he hollered.

"...Yeah, I'm good. You?"

"Where are you?"

"Still down. Hold on." He rose from where he'd fallen and took a tentative step forward. "You never answe-"

For the second time in as many minutes, he was cut off. "Whoa!" he cried as he dropped again. "Tim!"

"Dick!" Tim shouted back, clinging to the earth. The toss they'd experienced a moment before had been bothersome, but this new shaking was nauseating. He hadn't known that rock could roll in waves, let alone that the planet itself could shudder as if it were breaking apart beneath them. He hadn't _wanted_ to know such things, he pleaded desperately as he was thrown about. All he wanted was to wake up, to wake up and see that this was just a nightmare, just a bad dream, just primordial panic taking over as he lay unconscious in his sleeping bag underneath the stars...

But he didn't wake up, and the roller coaster didn't stop. Something slammed into him from above after one particularly large shockwave, and he grabbed hold of it, hoping that it would turn out to be his brother. It wasn't, but he couldn't let go. He squeezed instead, his hands recognizing his pack even though his brain was registering nothing other than fear. Still the world shook, on and on until he was sure that this was the end of everything. There had been a nuclear war somewhere, or an alien invasion, or...it didn't matter. Up and down were interchangeable, Dick was rolling along somewhere else on their hill of death, and Bruce was a thousand miles away.

A tiny moan of denial tore from his throat as he realized that in the end, despite his best efforts to prevent it, he was going to die alone.

An instant after he had that epiphany, he thought he _had_ died. The shaking subsided, leaving him flat on his back and clutching his bag; the screech and grind of the mountains moving in ways they had not done for thousands, maybe even millions of years faded away; the distant snaps and crashes of breaking trees and rolling boulders quieted. There was a moment of perfect, absolute noiselessness, and as he stared up at a sheet of featureless blue all he could think was that this was a rather disappointing afterlife.

Only when a hawk flapped hellbent-for-leather across his vision did he snap out of his shock. Turning his head sideways, he found himself mere inches from taking a likely lethal tumble down the very path that had gotten him here to start with. Giving a low cry, he skittered backward, dragging his pack with him.

When he'd reached a safe distance he stopped, resting on his battered and bloodied knees and choking back fearful sobs. _Gotta calm down, _he told himself. _Pull it together, Drake. Pull it...pull it together. _He took a slow, gasping assessment of the rest of his body in an effort to rein in the panic chemicals still thrumming in his veins, and found himself bruised but not broken. _I'm okay.I'm okay. I'm...I'm okay. But..._

His eyes widened. _But where's Dick?!_

"Dick!" he shrieked, all of the terror he'd been trying to hold back coming out in his brother's name. "...Diiiick!" _Answer me, goddamn it!_ Stumbling to his feet, he glanced about frantically. Nothing was where he remembered it; all of the contours of the hilltop had morphed under the pressure of the quake, and he had no idea how many times he himself had been turned around from his original orientation. Scanning the valleys below was completely unhelpful, as they were now as shattered as his soul felt. Even the white line of the falls, a beacon, he had thought, that could be relied on, had disappeared. There was nothing familiar except the clear sky above, and even that wouldn't last forever.

With tears now pouring down his cheeks, he raised his hands – he'd jammed a finger, he noted, although who cared about that if he couldn't find his brother? – to frame his mouth. "Dick!" he wailed. "Diiick!" _Please. Please,__please __say something. Scream, shout, __anything__. _"Diiiiiiiiiick!"

But there was no answer.

* * *

**Author's Note: And so it begins.**

**For those of you who went looking for my promised post on my blog yesterday, I offer my sincerest apologies. I was having internet issues until very late last night, so the post never made it onto the site. It is up now, though, if you're still interested.**

**Happy reading!**


	11. Chapter 11

"Mr. Wayne, you have a visitor."

Bruce looked up from his prospectuses, his face dour, and bit back a snarky response. While it was technically Veronica's job to make sure that he was undisturbed between the hours of one and three, there were occasionally people with business important enough to warrant interrupting him. He hoped for her sake that this was one of those times.

Before he could so much as ask who it was, however, someone barged into the room. His finger was on the button for security in an instant – it wouldn't have been the first time someone had tricked or forced their way past his secretary in an attempt to kidnap him – but he recognized the intruder before he pressed it. "Alfred?!" he started. "What are you _doing_?"

"I'm terribly sorry, sir," the butler apologized as he shut the door. "Please, just trust me when I tell you that we are on limited time and need to leave this instant."

He blinked hard, trying to decide whether or not the person standing on the other side of the desk was a doppelganger of the man who had raised him. If it was, someone had done a damn good job of getting them ready; everything was exact, right down to the pale liver spots on the back of his calloused hands and the impeccable knot in his tie. Still, Alfred had _never_ barged into his office in such a manner before, and it was hard to imagine that he ever would. "...Explain," he said finally, needing more information in order to decide if this was a trick or a real emergency.

The Englishman sighed. "You don't believe that I am me, I gather. Very well. Then let me assure you that the greatest sight to my eyes has always been candlelight and its reflection in a fine mirror."

The password phrase they had set up more than fifteen years earlier dispelled the last of the billionaire's hesitations. No one other than himself and Alfred knew what it was, or even that they had such a system set up. Given that, this had to be him. "I'll get my coat," he nodded, rising and striding to the closet.

"Leave it, Bruce," a hand closed around his elbow as he made to pass by. As soon as he'd stopped, it began to lead him towards the door. "Time truly is of the essence just now."

"Alfred-" he started, suspicion rising anew. The password had been spoken, but his gut told him that something was terribly wrong. When, he frowned, had he ever seen the man sweat so much in an air-conditioned building?

"When you were seven I sneaked your security blanket away from you while you slept so that it could be laundered," the butler cut him off. "The dryer tore it to shreds. You were utterly inconsolable, and frankly I don't know that you ever truly forgave me for the loss. It had little blue duckies on it, if you'll recall."

"...Alfred, I don't understand," he said, waving to a concerned-looking Veronica as they rushed past her desk and towards the elevator. The story was accurate, and only strengthened his opinion that this was a legitimate whisking from his office, but why the rush and fervor?

"Everything will be explained in the car, sir. This is not the proper venue for what needs to be said."

From that he deduced that the issue was JLA-related. _Wonderful,_ he cursed as they descended towards the parking garage. _Here I am an hour from home, and Batman's needed at the Watchtower. _He gave himself a mental kick. So many times he had tried to figure out a way to build a secret chamber somewhere in the building, just large enough for a Batsuit and a Zeta extension. It always calculated out to be too dangerous to his identity, but moments like this made him wonder if the fate of the world might someday hang on his unwillingness to take the risk.

They stopped at street level instead of dropping to the subterranean parking. "Alfred-"

"I'm not exaggerating, Master Wayne. We _must_ hurry. The garage would have taken time that we cannot afford."

His discomfort grew. As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, he searched the cars parked along the road. If he didn't recognize the plate number and the vehicle it was attached to, he determined, he wasn't getting into it without a fight. A second later, however, he spotted a match. "...Alfred..." _What the hell is going on?!_

"You'll find further confirmation of my identity along with your explanation inside," the butler replied as he opened the rear passenger door and held it for him.

There was nothing else he could do if he wanted answers, it seemed, and if this wasn't the real Alfred then he would hang up his cowl and call himself a hack. He dropped inside without another word, then jumped for the second time in ten minutes. "_Clark_?!"

"Hi, Bruce," the Kryptonian grimaced back.

"Master Damian, say hello to your father, please," Alfred bade as he slid in behind the wheel.

An unhappy grunt that might have been 'hey' sounded. Bruce gave a distracted reply, keeping his attention focused on the man beside him. "Clark, if this is JLA business that's important enough to interrupt me at work for, why are you here? Has someone targeted Gotham?" It was the best solution he could come up with. _You can fly at supersonic speeds, but you're sitting in my car,_ he narrowed his eyes. _You're the head of the League, but you're down here escorting me home instead of up above coordinating a counter-assault to whatever the threat is. _Gotham being set up as a victim was the only possible explanation.

"Bruce..." Clark took a deep breath as they pulled away from the curb. "...You know the Big Seven meeting we had six, seven weeks ago?"

"If I was there, I remember it." He folded his arms. "Cut to the chase."

"Diana gave a report on some strange wave disturbances that had occurred over the last year or so at the meeting. She said they'd messed with communications satellites, GPS, even regular radio signals, but no one could figure out what they were or where they'd come from. Do you remember that?"

A bolt of fear shot through him. "...Yes. I remember. She came back a couple of weeks later and said that there were correlating earthquakes every time. We were supposed to watch it to determine if the disturbances were a result of the quakes, or vice versa." It had been bothering him ever since, knowing as he did that Dick and Tim would be near a geological hot zone on their hike. Lacking any evidence that the phenomenon was something more than a case of cutting-edge equipment picking up previously undetectable waves, he had kept the concern to himself. The boys had more than earned a vacation from all of their usual worries, and he'd been unwilling to weigh them down with baseless alarm. Now, though, he was beginning to regret his silence. "What of it?"

"...There's been another one. A...a big one." Clark paused. "A _very_ big one."

The Kryptonian hadn't come all the way to Gotham just to tell him there had been another quake somewhere in the world_, _Bruce knew.Not even a monster quake would be enough to make him waste two hours or more playing escort. That went double if there were people in danger as a result of the temblor, which there likely were unless the event had occurred at the North Pole.He was missing something, and he had a horrible, gut-churning suspicion as to what it was. "Clark, what are you not telling me?" he breathed.

"It...it happened in the park the boys are hiking in," the other man told him gently, tears standing in his eyes. "Alfred showed me the map of their route before we came, and...it was right under them. They were standing right on top of it when it happened."

Steely talons tore into his heart. _No. No, not my boys. __Not__ my boys. No..._ He turned his head to the window, partially to keep Clark from seeing the wretched pain in his eyes and partially because he needed a neutral sight to steady himself. If he could wrestle down his wretched terror, he could act, and he _had_ to act. "How long ago?" he managed.

"About two hours. I Zetaed to the cave as quick as I could after the news came over the wire. I wasn't sure about the boys until I talked to Alfred, but...I don't see how they-"

"Until I have bodies, they are alive," he snarled defensively before that awful sentence could be finished. "They are alive, and the JLA will operate as such until I say otherwise."

The Kryptonian opened his mouth as if to object, then closed it and simply nodded. "I thought you'd feel that way. But you need to understand the magnitude we're talking about here."

"No, _you_ need to understand," he retorted. "I am not going stand by and begin mourning my sons when there might very well still be a chance to save them. If everyone else needs to focus on the cities that have been affected, fine, but I am going after my children. When they are safe, I will join in whatever clean-up efforts you need me to." _I'll find them. I __have__ to find them._

"...I meant you need to know what size the quake was."

_...Oh._ "Well quit beating around the bush and _tell me_, then!"

"It...it was almost a nine, Bruce. Almost a nine, and the epicenter can't have been more than a few miles from them. I know this isn't what you want to hear," his voice softened after a brief pause, "and I hope like hell that I'm wrong, but...how could _anything_ survive that?"

He closed his eyes. _A nine..._ The land itself wouldn't be the same after an event of that size. Even if they had made it through the quake, they would have to survive as civilians in a tangled, unmapped wilderness until he could get to them. When Clark had said it was big, he'd thought a six, maybe even a seven, but a _nine_...

"You can ask them when you see them," he choked out. "It's like I said before. Until I have bodies, they're alive." Looking up, he found Alfred's steady gaze waiting for him in the rear view mirror. Their eyes met, and the butler gave him a firm nod of agreement. _I'm not giving up on them, goddamn it,_ he swore, his jaw tightening in determination in response to his back-up. _They're together, at least, and that will go a long way. If anyone can survive something like this it's my boys, and I'm going to prove it. _"...They're alive," he repeated stolidly.

_They have to be. If they aren't...if they aren't, then I'm lost, too._


	12. Chapter 12

Every moment of the ride home had felt like a hundred years of torture, and once Bruce was in position to do something he had no interest in moving slowly. As he hustled down into the cave, he asked Clark a pointed question. "I assume you're going to the Watchtower?"

"Yes. We've already dispatched a few teams to the bigger population centers, and we'll continue beefing them up as more people report in. We're going to need all the help we can get in the affected areas."

"What about the signals?" Striding to a control panel as he spoke, the billionaire pressed a series of buttons, entered a code, and flipped a switch. Distant thrumming sounded from a back chamber as the Batplane's engines started. Leaving them to warm up, he turned to the computers.

"We don't know yet," Clark answered, following him across the room. "I would prefer to think that this was a natural event, but...well, I'm no seismologist, but everything I've heard so far suggests that an earthquake of that size shouldn't even be _possible_ there. Along the coast, yes, but...not there. That leads me to think there's something else going on."

"Mm..." He typed as he hummed, activating the tracking chips he had had Alfred insert into the linings of the boys' backpacks before they left. In an effort not to add extra weight to their loads he had used the smallest devices in existence, but their minuscule proportions meant that their batteries would only last a few days at the very most. As such he had left them off until now. They should have appeared on the screen as soon as they were activated, however, which was why he found himself glaring at his monitor when nothing happened. "What the hell? Alfred!" he bellowed.

"I'm right here, sir," the butler replied from behind him. "I installed the chips exactly as you instructed me to. There's no reason why they shouldn't be working."

Bruce gave another hopeless look at the map that two precious flashing icons should have been superimposed on. Without those beacons to guide him, he would have to search the entirety of the twenty-five-mile trail. Even if he focused on the area they were likely to have reached by the middle of the third day, there would still be a great deal of tangled terrain to cover.

"If the trackers aren't showing," he fretted aloud, "then their emergency locators should be." _Unless they haven't switched them on, of course,_ he kept to himself. _Unless they...they __can't__ switch them on. Oh, god...no. No, don't think that way. They're fine. Maybe they just...just lost their packs..._ That wouldn't be a good thing by any stretch of the imagination, but it was better than imagining them dead under a tree or at the base of a cliff.

"If I may, Master Wayne," Alfred's voice pierced his mounting despair, "the same signal that Miss Prince reported interfering with satellite and radio transmissions may be affecting the tracking devices."

He latched onto that explanation with the desperation of a drowning man grabbing a lifeline. "...That makes sense. That must be it." Shoving away the scenes of death and destruction that had been playing behind his eyes, he stepped towards the changing area. "We can figure that out for sure later. I'm not wasting any more time here. Alfred, you'll call me if anything pops up on that screen."

"Yes, sir."

"Bruce?"

He stopped, sighed, and turned around. "_What_, Clark?"

The Kryptonian wore a troubled expression shot through with pity as he spoke two words. "...Good luck."

"You could help, you know," he accused.

Clark flinched. "I love them too, Bruce, but...there are a lot of other people who need my help right now, and almost none of them are as well-equipped to handle an emergency as Dick and Tim are. If they're alive – and I hope to god they are, believe me, I do – I think they'd want at least one of us to focus on the civilians."

The other man was right, but it didn't help his upset any. "Fine. I'll join you after I've gotten them home safely."

"Okay. Good luck," he repeated.

"...Thanks," Bruce grimaced, and stomped away. _Damn Boy Scout...two fully-fledged JLA members, two of your __own__, are in trouble, and you go running to the civilians._ Drawing a deep breath, he tried to reel in his rage. In terms of practicality and statistics, he understood Clark's decision. It made more sense for him to go and save many dozens, perhaps even hundreds or thousands, of innocents in a concentrated area than for him to focus all of his superhuman efforts on locating two people lost in the middle of a vast, shredded wilderness. Finding Dick and Tim wouldn't even convey the advantage of swelling the ranks available to help find trapped civilians. While Bruce absolutely held out hope that his boys were alive, he wasn't foolish enough to think that they were uninjured. It was logical when he stopped and thought about it; in fact, it was exactly what he would have done in Clark's place.

In his heart, though, it hurt to know that the Kryptonian would place the lives of strangers over those of the young men he regularly referred to as his nephews.

He had little opportunity to dwell on his newest pain, however. As he entered the locker room, he drew to a halt and arched an eyebrow. "What are you doing?" he rumbled.

Damian looked around, his fingers pressing the corners of his mask to his face as he waited for the spirit gum to cure. "I'm coming with you. I would have thought that was obvious."

Part of the billionaire appreciated that his youngest wanted to help find his brothers. He knew that it was much more for Dick's sake than for Tim's that the child was volunteering, but that was forgivable. _Who would have thought you'd prove more loyal in some ways than Clark?_ he mused. _...No, don't think that. It's not disloyalty, it's..._ It was something he would have to think about later, because Damian had turned to face him head on and was mirroring his stubborn, aggravated posture. "...You're staying here, with Alfred," he ruled.

"Like hell I am!"

"Damian..." There was no way the youth would understand his refusal, but he had to try. "I need you to stay here." _I need at least one of you to be safe. Please, just one of you. Let me have that iota of relief._

"Do you have a task for me to perform in your absence?"

He scrambled for an answer. "You can monitor the tracking maps with Alfred."

"That's pointless. Pennyworth is more than capable of doing that by himself. I will be of greater use in the field, with you."

He hesitated, then shook his head. While it wouldn't hurt to have a second pair of eyes along, he didn't want to expose the boy to what he knew was a potential outcome of his search. If he found them too late, how would Damian take it and Bruce's own inevitable breakdown? No, it was best that he go alone. He could handle anything that came up, he would be alone were the worst case scenario to become reality, and most importantly at least one of his Robins would be at home with Alfred. "You're staying here, and that's final. Put your civilian clothes back on." With that he turned away and began to change.

"...If this is about my safety, you're being foolish."

"I said _no_, Damian," he snapped. It wasn't surprising that the youth was pulling this stunt now_. _He had been being a pill ever since Dick and Tim had departed, and Bruce supposed that his current attitude was at least partially a reaction to what was going on with his siblings. While he could understand the need to lash out at something, if only so as to feel useful for a moment, his insistence was still extremely annoying. He had neither the time nor the patience for it, so he brushed him off.

"The next one could be right here, you know."

_That_ got him to stop. Half-clad in the Batsuit, he glared over his shoulder. "I have no reason to believe that will be the case." Despite his certainty, a fresh blade of panic slipped between his ribs.

"I was listening in the car. I'm not an idiot. An intraplate quake that was almost a nine? You know as well as Kent that it shouldn't have happened." Damian crossed his arms. "Something's going on, and it's bigger than mere plate tectonics."

"We don't know that." _Stop it. I have to get your brothers back before I worry about what – or who – caused this disaster. Dis-aster..._ His mind wandered off track and into a minefield. _Word play. Always with the word play. _The claws that had sunk into his heart in the car suddenly twisted, nearly drawing a whine from his throat. _Dick..._

"No? Have you ever heard of earthquakes interfering with satellite transmissions before a few months ago, father? Because _I _haven't."

Bruce yanked his attention back to the conversation. "Damn it, Damian..."

"You haven't, have you?" The boy was suddenly at his elbow. "_Have you_?"

"...No," he confessed. "Not like this, at least." Pulling on the next piece of his armor, his gaze hardened. "But that's not what I'm focused on right now."

"It should be, if your concern for my safety and that of Pennyworth is half of what it is for them."

"Damn it, Damian!" he echoed himself in a near-shout. It was aggravating as hell, but the child had a point; if someone had somehow triggered a scale-breaking quake in the middle of nowhere, why wouldn't they target a major population center next? Gotham, Metropolis, Bludhaven...they had all had small temblors within living memory, but they certainly weren't built to absorb such events like the cities of the West Coast and Japan were. Any villain worth their salt who had the ability to zero in on an unprepared intraplate city could do far worse than to choose Gotham as the next ground zero.

"...Well?" Damian pressed.

"You can come with me," he gave in. "But you're going to _listen_ when we get on the ground. I'm not fooling around, Damian. If you disobey an order, or do something that might end in you getting hurt or killed, I will restrain you and put you in the plane until we're home. After that, you'll be grounded until you're eighteen or until Dick talks me into leniency. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

It was the most agreeable response the child had given to any inquiry in days. While he wasn't unhappy to hear it, it made him sad that it had taken an event of such seriousness to draw it out. "There's one other thing."

"...What we might find?"

His fingers twitched as he winced. "Yes."

"No."

"What?"

"Kent is wrong," a childish foot stomp punctuated his certainty. "You are _right_," a second _thunk_ sounded. "They are alive. And we will find them."

Bruce's mouth dropped open for a moment. Closing it, he cleared his throat of the ball of emotion that had lodged in it. "...Thank you, Robin," he breathed. "Now go wait in the plane."

"Hurry," the boy urged as he swiveled on his heel to do as he'd been told. "If Pennyworth has ever been correct about something, it is that time is of the essence today."

Shoving his hands into his gauntlets, the billionaire let a shaky smile tilt the corners of his mouth up. _I don't know what made you decide that it was time to grow up a bit, son,_ he marveled, _but I'm damned glad that you decided to do it today._ If his missing boys were half as stubborn about giving up as he and Damian were, then surely they could hold on long enough to be rescued. _Surely..._


	13. Chapter 13

_'I __love you!'_

_ 'I really don't care, Grayson.'_

_ 'I love you!'_

_ 'I really don't care, Grayson."_

_ 'I love you!'_

_ 'I really don't care...'_

Damian snapped awake from an imageless nightmare in which elements of the last conversationhe'dheld with his eldest brother had replayed themselves over and over in his head. Just a few hours earlier he had felt entirely justified in having stomped away while firing cutting remarks over his shoulder. Now that there was a very real chance that those were the final moments he would ever spend with Dick, however, the memory forced him to suppress a shudder. Yes, he'd been upset, and righteously so, but he might have at least let the man finish his sentence before he turned his back on him.

"How close are we?" he blurted out in aneffortto distract himself from the mixture of guilt and regret that was making the backs of his eyes annoyingly hot.

Batman tore his stare from the controls long enough to glance at him. "Approximately thirty minutes out."

"Tsk." _Stupid plane should be faster, _he griped to himself.

"I've pushed it to the limit already. It can't go any faster without undue risk," a mutter reached his ears.

"I didn't say anything!" he glared._What are you, a mind reader now? That's just fucking great._

"...I wasn't speaking to you, Robin."

The urge to ask if his mentor was growing senile already swelled up in his throat, then receded. He knew that the threat that had been made back at the cave had been legitimate; if he misbehaved, he would be confined to the plane. That would make him useless, and would steal valuable time from the cause of Grayson's rescue besides, so he held his tongue.

Still, he had to wonder who Batman had been talking to if not to him._It must have been Pennyworth,_he decided after a moment's consideration. Alfred had insisted on staying behind despite the possibility of a quake spawning beneath Gotham, stating that he wanted to begin contacting the civilian authorities in regards to the missing pair. While Damian couldn't fathom how some measly park rangers were going to be better searchers than he and Batman, he could imagine the butler reading his monitors and asking if the plane couldn't go just a littlebit faster.

His stomach rumbled at the thought of Alfred, reminding him that there had been no opportunity for him to eat lunch. Clark had shown up just before he was usually called to his mid-day meal, and by the time the Kryptonian had finished telling his news Damian's appetite had fled. It had returned, evidently, but he wished it would go away again. If he ate now and they found something awful on the ground, he knew he would vomit, and he didn't want to risk it.

His body disagreed with him, and voiced its dissent louder than before. "...Robin," Batman spoke his name.

_Damn it. _"What?"

"There are energy bars back in medical."

"...I'm not hungry."

"Mm." The tone of that hummed syllable told the boy that he hadn't been convincing enough. Instead of ordering him to go ingest something, however, the elder vigilante's voice softened. "You'll want to have plenty of energy available once we're on the ground. We may have to do much of our searching on foot, and if you eat now we'll be able to cover more territory without stopping for food."

_I don't want to cover __any __territory,_he rebelled in his head. _I want us to see Grayson jumping up and down like his usual over-energetic self to get our attention before we even land. _He wouldn't even complain more than a moderate amount if Drake was at his side, since Dick would be inconsolable if something had happened to his hiking partner. If he ate now, wouldn't that be like giving in to the idea that it was going to take hours and hours to find their quarry?_It can't, _he grimaced. _It just can't take that long._

If the search didtake them into the night, though, each passing minute would increase exponentially in value. 'Time is life,' Alfred had muttered irritably when they'd hit a string of red lights on their way to pick up Bruce, and Damian had believed him. As little as he wanted to admit to the amount of effort that they might have to expend to find the missing duo, it would be far worse to have to delegate even a few seconds to caring for his own bodily needs down the line. "...Fine," he grumbled finally and slid from his seat.

A minute later he stood motionless in the entrance of the plane's compact surgical bay. He had intended to grab a few of the better-tasting bars and return to the cockpit, but his imagination had taken over and welded his feet in place as soon as he'd opened the door. In his mind the spotless exam table before him was occupied by his agony-ridden brother, whose dozen injuries kept taking on more and more horrific forms. Dick's begging eyes bulged, pleading without words for him to make the pain stop; his gasping inhalations came back out as shrill, wretched screams that faded into wheezes; his clever hands, their slim fingers bent and broken, clawed at the bare metal beneath them in an attempt to hold on to this world. Then he went still, horridly, hellishly still, and the only sound Damian heard was his father's banshee wail of denial.

Tearing his gaze away, he emitted an angry hiss. _It won't be like that,_he half-swore, half-prayed. _If he's hurt, it will be something he can laugh off like he always does. _Grayson's first intelligible words following the operation on his wrist had been some jape about milk making his bones so strong that something else had had to break instead, he remembered suddenly. _It'll be like that. He's okay. And Drake..._He frowned._Well, if Grayson's okay, he'll make sure Drake is, too. Not...not that I care about Drake's well being, _he reminded himself._That was merely an...an observation. Anyway, they're fine._

He went about his task without daring another look at the equipment secured to the walls and floor. Retreating to the hall, he slammed the door shut and made his way back towards the front of the aircraft. "Here," he shoved two foil-wrapped rectangles at the figure in the pilot's seat. "I brought you some, too."

Batman seemed to hesitate, but he took the offerings without too awkward of a pause. "Good. It won't hurt anything for us both to be fed before we land."

The boy barely heard him. "Is that...below?" he asked, staring at a display.

"...Yes. We're descending now, and I thought it best to see what we have to deal with before we're in the middle of it."

It was far worse than he had imagined. The photos of destroyed roads and buildings from other quake zones that he had seen in the past had done next to nothing to prepare him for the savage rape of the wildlands beneath them, and he had to swallow hard to keep from shivering. Even from several thousand feet up he could see where huge chunks of mountainside had sloughed off and succumbed to gravity. Entire forests lay like spilled toothpicks. They passed over a river that had shifted course ninety degrees to flow across what had once been grassland, its diversion so recent that the mud of its old bed still gleamed in the slanting late-afternoon light. _How are we supposed to find anything in that?_he boggled_. __Jesus christ, Grayson...why did you have to go and put yourself in the middle of such a clusterfuck?_

Batman's grip landed on his elbow and turned him away from the screen. "Sit down and eat, Robin," he urged. "We'll be on the ground soon. It won't look as bad then."

He opened his mouth to argue, then shut it and obeyed. Once he thought about it, he realized that he didn't want to watch and see how much worse everything looked as their altitude dropped. It was going to be bad enough to actually step into the alien world they were approaching and be forced to admit that it was real, and until that became a necessity he was happy to live in a state of denial.

Curling up in his chair, he nibbled nauseously at one of his energy bars and counted down the feet along with the altimeter. The steady pace at which the number on the display grew smaller was comforting despite what the end of the count portended, and he was almost able to pretend that he hadn't seen anything on the monitor that was now turned away from him. _2700...2500..._He unwrapped his second snack. _2300...2100..._

At 1000, there was a thud. The impact bounced him so hard in his seat that he would have choked if he'd had a mouthful. Fortunately he was between bites, and as such could launch an immediate accusation at the craft's controller. "Why did you stop?!"

"I didn't," Batman answered, sounding just as perplexed as Damian felt. "We seem to have hit something."

"What the hell could we have hit a thousand feet in the air?! Besides," he added, "it was more like we landed on something than hit it."

The cowl swiveled towards him slightly, then faced forward again. "Look out the window. Tell me what you see."

_The window. Gee, thanks._Crumpling what was left of his food into its packaging, he chucked it onto the floor and stood. "I see a shit hole," he snapped. Although it was pointless from this height, he scanned the earth for signs of life. A promising flash of red or yellow would have made his day, but none appeared. Just an empty, lifeless shit shook his head._No. Not lifeless. Not yet. Not him. Not...not them, but especially not him__._

"Are there any obstructions?"

"No. There's nothing. Why can't we go any lower?"

"...I don't know. Hold on." A few buttons were pressed, and a second later a pingfilled the cockpit. "What the hell?"

"What?" He scrambled to the man's side. "What is it?"

"The lidar says we're sitting on something. Look."

The display that had tried to puncture his hope a short while before with its live feed of despair now showed the map that the returning lidar signal had built. It should have shown the hills and fissures in a one mile radius of them to an accuracy of within six inches; instead it showed a flat plane, the only discerning feature of which was the slight curve its edges took on towards the horizon. "It must be broken," Damian ruled. "Try something else."

Another button was pushed, and a second pingsounded. The screen blinked, then came back with the same image. "That's...not possible," Batman breathed slowly.

"What was that one?"

"Radar. It would be one thing if nothing was pinging back, but this..." A black-clad digit tapped the blank, mocking map. "This says it's hitting something between us and the ground."

"That's impossible!"

"I would tend to agree with you." He paused. "The only thing I can think of is a massive force field."

Damian scoffed. "They can barely make one big enough to surround a few atoms at the Watchtower. Who could do something like this? If the scans are right, that thing is huge!"

"It's unbelievable, but...it's there. More importantly," the man shifted in his seat, "someone put it there. This isn't a natural phenomenon. You were right about that, Robin."

He was too caught up in the implications of their discovery to be pleased with the acknowledgment. A force field would explain why there had been transmission disruptions at the sites Clark had mentioned, although he hadn't the slightest clue what good one was for causing an earthquake. It would also account for the lack of response from either the tracking devices or the emergency locators that Dick and Tim were carrying. More important than any of that, though, he thought as he slumped back into his chair, was the fact that the force field – if that was in fact what it was, the skeptical part of himself butted in – was delaying their rescue mission.

"If we can't get through it..." _They'll be stuck down there all night, and maybe even longer if we can't figure out how to break in fast,_he ground his teeth_. __And if there are other quakes in the meantime...__ "_Batman, what do we do?" _We have to get in there!_

He expected a solid answer, some brilliant proposal worthy of the man whose blood ran in his veins. Instead he got to see his father wilt against the back of his seat, his arms falling limply to their rests as their owner stared at the vexing picture on the screen.

"...I don't know, Robin. I just...don't know."

* * *

**Author's Note: I promise you'll have answers regarding Dick day after tomorrow. :D**


	14. Chapter 14

"We need a task force at the epicenter," Batman told Superman via video conference a few minutes later.

Damian watched over his mentor's shoulder as the Kryptonian's expression became momentarily annoyed, then smoothed out under a fresh dose of patience. "I don't have anyone to spare from the civilian rescue efforts," he replied gently. "I'm sorry, Batman, but you're going to have to start the search for Nightwing and Red Robin on your own. This is too large of a crisis for me to pull people away from the population centers."

_Grayson would come after you,_ the boy glared behind his mask. It had irked him earlier when he'd first realized that he and Batman were the only ones going after the missing men, but he'd written it off as a minor inconvenience. They didn't need the JLA in order to do what needed to be done, or so it had seemed at the time. To hear a direct request for aid being dismissed, though, brought his upset back to the fore. _He'd drop everything and run to the scene if someone else needed his help, especially if it was another JLA member, but no one can be bothered to do the same for him now? This is bullshit._

"You have no idea about the extent of this crisis," the cowled man growled.

Superman glanced off at something off screen, his face now wary. "...What are you talking about?"

"He's talking about the fact that we're sitting on a force field a thousand feet above the ground!" Damian snapped, needing to let some of his anger out. "Is a force field important enough to deserve some of your precious manpower, since their lives obviously aren't?"

"Robin..." Someone screamed out of sight on the other end of the conversation. "...Sorry. It's bad here. But a force field...you must be mistaken."

"He's not," Batman stepped back in. "And I have the scans to prove it. This was not a natural disaster; it was very much man-made, and my guess is that whoever is responsible for it is hiding below. There's no other reason to have a barrier like this over uninhabited country."

There was a long pause. "...You're positive it's a force field? A legitimate force field?"

"Yes."

"Yes!" the boy echoed his counterpart. "Quit boggling and do something!"

"...Hold your position. I'm on my way."

The call blacked out, and a minute passed without a word from either of the plane's occupants. Damian paced in exasperation, every muscle he possessed tensed in anticipation. _Maybe he can just punch through it_, he thought. _Or...or burn through it with heat vision_. Could heat penetrate a force field? He wasn't sure, but he didn't see why not. Sunlight had to get through, after all. _That should do it. That has to do it._

"He's here," Batman recalled him to the window. Sure enough, a red-caped figure was standing in mid-air a few dozen feet away. It was clear that he wasn't using his powers to maintain his altitude, and as that sunk in a gesture was made for them to join him. "...Let's go."

Without the landing gear down the stairs opened only halfway before coming to rest against the invisible shell with a heavy thunk. Balancing on the edges of the risers, they made their way to the bottom. Batman strode towards the waiting hero as if he was on ordinary ground, but Damian had to pause momentarily before he stepped away from safety. He had swung about without worry at heights like this on plenty of occasions, but walking on air without a lifeline was not a concept he was comfortable with. If the force field gave out suddenly, the only ways he could avoid a swift and splattery death would be to try and grapple back up to the still-running plane or to hope that Superman would catch him, and neither firing at a small target nor owing a debt of gratitude was terribly appealing.

The adults were going to discuss how to deal with the barricade, though, and he couldn't miss that. Drawing a deep breath, he lowered one foot cautiously. It stopped just like it would have if he was on the ground, and some of his fear eased. There was still the risk of it vanishing, but there was nothing he could do about that from on top of it, and for now it was holding his weight with no problem. Chastising himself for his fear, he jogged to catch up.

"Well? Are you convinced?" Batman asked with crossed arms.

"This is impossible," Superman replied, "but...here we are."

"And there they are," a gauntleted finger pointed towards the earth, "somewhere. Nightwing, Red Robin, and whoever is responsible for the quakes here and at the other locations."

"…I suppose it won't help your mood any if I point out that at least they've both dealt with mass murderers before."

"No," the cowled man snarled, "it won't."

"Right. Sorry." He paused. "You're sure they're under here? How much of the trail is covered?"

"The curvature we saw on the lidar and radar maps suggest a dome of approximately thirty miles in diameter. Judging from our current GPS coordinates, that puts roughly the latter sixty percent of their course inside."

"And there's not much chance of them having only covered forty percent of their route in two full days," Superman finished for him. "Okay."

An idea struck the listening boy. "Could the force field let things out, but not in?" he postulated. That would be the clever way to make one, at least to his way of thinking. _You could launch attacks without ever risking your seat of power,_ he strategized. _If someone was smart enough to figure out how to make this stupid thing, they must have been smart enough to think of that, too._

Batman's lips thinned. "If it does, we have an even more serious problem on our hands than we think. Our own people haven't gotten anywhere near this level just with double-sided repulsion; if someone with sinister intentions has managed to do not only this," he tapped the heel of his boot against the solid sky, "but to have also made it one-sided..."

His shoulders slumped. "...Then we're screwed."

"More or less."

"The question is, who's the someone?" Superman pondered aloud. "We weren't aware of any of the usual suspects working on a project of this nature. It's so easy to detect the amounts of energy that the experiments take that there's no way any of the people we monitor are behind it."

"The real question is, how are we going to get inside and find-" Batman cut off as they were shifted a few centimeters from side to side. Damian suppressed a gasp only with great difficulty, thinking that their permission to treat the atmosphere like a conference room was about to be revoked. After a few seconds the motion stopped, and his heart's panic-pounding slowed.

"...Aftershock," Superman identified the movement. "It probably didn't do too much more damage on the ground," he added.

"We'll know that for sure once we're inside. As I was saying, the real question is how to get there."

"I have a couple of ideas. You might want to wait in the plane, though; if I manage to break through it could shut the whole thing down beneath us."

"Mm," Batman gave a single nod. "Let's go, Robin."

They trekked the short distance back to the half-deployed steps. Damian had never been so happy to have the material beneath his feet be opaque as he was when he lifted himself onto the first riser. Standing beside his father a few seconds later, he watched Superman rise some fifteen feet above the translucent impediment. Then the Kryptonian turned and rocketed back downward, approaching the surface at a right angle with his fists extended for a knockout punch that could have felled a dinosaur.

Both of the figures in the Batplane gave snorts of laughter as he hit the barricade and was sent spinning away. It wasn't truly funny – given the situation it was quite the opposite, in fact – but the moment was so tense as to be primed for comic relief. As soon as he'd contained his amusement Damian was flooded with guilt and disappointment. _I didn't mean that_, he apologized to no one. _I wanted him to get through, I just...it looked funny when he bounced off. That's all._

Batman, the set of whose mouth revealed that he had been wrestling with similar emotions, cleared his throat. "He'll try heat vision next," he spoke grimly. "Step back so I can close the door."

"What? Why? We're on a perfect dome; the reflection is calculable, if it happens." _We don't have any time to waste with safety precautions. We need to be ready to go if he gets through._

"Yes, but we're already sitting on top of an impossible object. I don't want to risk there being physics at play that I'm unaware of. The plane can take a shot of his heat vision without faltering; you and I cannot. So step back."

The last sentence was an order, and he obeyed it with a sigh. The steps closed behind them, and they moved to the side windows. As soon as the door latched itself shut, Superman looked downward.

_Work_, Damian narrowed his eyes at the blockade that he couldn't see. _Work, god damn it. I don't even care if it's Kent that breaks through instead of us, so long as someone can get in there._

But it was pointless. Twin beams of concentrated heat acted exactly as their creator had, hitting the force field and ricocheting away into the sky. The attempt went on for only the space of a breath, just long enough for the result to become clear, and then Superman started towards the plane.

The stairs folded back down to meet him. "...I'm sorry," came immediately once he'd reached the top. "There's not much else I can do right now, I'm afraid."

"What about a sustained heat blast?" Batman asked immediately.

"Too risky. It, ah..." His mien became sheepish. "...It wouldn't be the first time I accidentally caused severe weather changes by glaring at the sky. Let's just leave it at that."

"A punch from far away, then," Damian put in. "It might throw you into space if it doesn't work, but you don't break, so..." _So do it already_.

"That wouldn't be a bad idea," Superman acknowledged kindly, "except that the field has absolutely no give. If I come at it at top speed from even a quarter mile away, there's a chance I could affect Earth's orbit, rotational speed, or both."

"...Oh." The ability to literally punch a planet to a new set of coordinates in the universe was something worthy of respect, and a thread of awe wended its way into his usual disdain for super-humans. He'd known Clark was ridiculously strong, but he hadn't realized just how far that power extended. The man's stock ticked up a couple of points in his head. "Well what, then? We have to do something."

"Mm. We'll check where it meets the ground," Batman ruled unilaterally. Punching the button for the stairs once more, he started towards the cockpit. "We may be able to find something there."

Using constant reads from the lidar, the plane skated along the top of the force field. Their rate of descent was paltry, but twenty minutes after they'd started moving again they were stepping out of the aircraft and onto good ground. There might not have been any guarantee that it wouldn't begin to shake again at any second, Damian mused, but he'd take it over an invisible floor in the clouds any day of the week.

They ranged out along the barrier's edge, but it didn't take long for their endeavor to prove fruitless. _Damn it_! he cried as the men, their faces darkened by defeat, drew in on either side of him. There were no weak spots that they could find, and the field continued beneath the surface of the earth to a depth of at least several hundred feet. That was all the further down Superman had dug, but it was enough to tell them that tunneling wasn't likely to be a viable option.

A rabbit suddenly emerged from the grass a few yards away. "Look," he pointed it out.

"...What about it, Robin?" Superman frowned.

"If it comes closer we'll know whether or not the field is doubly repulsive," Batman filled in as if it should have been obvious. "Back away and give it space."

They did, but the rabbit didn't seem to notice. It hopped forward, mouthed something up off the ground, then hopped again. On the third leap it halted in mid-air and tumbled backward. After a pause and a twitch of its ears it tried again, with the same result. Finally it took off in the opposite direction, disappearing back the way it had come.

"Well, that answers that. We're stuck out here, and everything in there is...well, stuck in there," Superman assessed.

"Do you believe that we need a task force now?" Batman pressured.

"...Yes. You have your task force."

"About freaking time," Damian muttered. Both adults glanced at him, one wincing, the other almost smirking. _There should have been a group here to begin with, and you know it, _he raged silently at Superman. _Your call earlier was wrong, Kent. Grayson's done far more for you than any civilian ever has. Probably Drake has too, but...anyway, you were wrong not to send people sooner._

"Ah...look, meet me at the Watchtower and we'll get it organized, okay?" the shame-faced Kryptonian suggested. "The closest Zeta point that we know hasn't been compromised is in LA; you'll be able to get there much faster than back to Gotham."

"Right."

"Okay. See you both there." With that he took off, rising towards the gray thunderheads that were beginning to gather.

When they were alone, Damian turned to his father. "...Batman?"

"Yes, Robin?"

"Do you think...we can solve this, right?" It seemed so hopeless, and his morale flagged every time he remembered what it felt like to put one's hand up in mid-air and have it be stopped as if it were against a brick wall. _It's just science_, he gulped. _We're good at that. We can get in there, can't we? There's got to be a way...how long can he…can they…last in there?_

Fingers landed on his shoulder, squeezed, and withdrew as quickly as they'd come. "I'm going to do my damnedest, son," a low promise was whispered. "...Now let's go."

"...Okay." Batman started towards the waiting jet, but Damian hesitated. Staring out over the open high plain that had been cut down the middle by something he didn't know how to fight, he sniffled quietly. _I lied, Dick_, he moaned to himself. _I do care. I…I care a lot_.

Now, he thought as he turned away, all he could hope was that he'd get a chance to make sure Grayson knew as much.


	15. Chapter 15

Dick remembered what he'd dreamed about in the hotel now.

Shaking, sliding, falling...it had all come back to him as the ground had slipped away beneath his feet and dragged him with it. The flailing Tim had mentioned him doing in his sleep a few nights before had been his attempts to grab onto anything that might slow or stop his tumble, he'd recalled as he re-created the motions. Unfortunately they had been just as useless in real life as in his nightmare, a fact of which his body was sure to inform him as he swam slowly back up to full consciousness.

"Uuuugh," he moaned without opening his eyes. A cough followed, tasting of dirt and blood. Making a face, he spat blindly. The coppery flavor worried him until he found a gash on the inside of his cheek, the result of an unpleasant encounter with his teeth. Wondering what else he'd done to himself, he dragged his trembling hands into action and explored what parts of himself he could reach without sitting up. Bruises and a few mild lacerations greeted his fingers, but so far as he could tell he'd avoided major internal injury. _Good_, he groaned. _We've still got to walk out of here_... He frowned. _We...we? Timmy...!_

His eyelids flew upward, then slammed back down. "Fuck!" he swore involuntarily as pain exploded behind his forehead. _Oops. Sorry Alfred. Blame it on the circumstances_. Taking another peek at the world, he hissed and reached for the source of his throbbing agony. "...Oh," a flat tone of discovery sounded when his palm met with more wet stickiness than he'd anticipated. _Scalp wound. Concussion? Maybe... _His thoughts so far were clearer than he recalled them being immediately after receiving past head traumas, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. He needed to find his brother, not only to make sure that he was safe but so that the wound could be better assessed. _Gotta get up_, he coaxed himself. _Gotta find Timmy_.

Another low exhalation of discomfort exited his mouth as he pushed himself to his feet. Black dots flooded his vision for a moment, then faded. _Ooooww...okay. It's okay. Gotta find Tim. Worst I've got is a little bump on the noggin; just have to make sure he's no worse off._

"Diiiiiiiick!"

He whipped around at the sound of his name, nearly falling down again in the process. The circles clouding the world were white this time, but he pushed them aside. "Ti-" His answering call started off as nothing more than a rough whisper and ended as hacking as his lungs tried to expel the dust they had taken in during his desperate efforts to not die. "...Ti-" he tried again, with the same result. _...Screw it_, he thought when the second fit had calmed. He was facing the right direction now, and unless his brain was more addled than it felt he was fairly certain that his brother's cry had come from above him. _Mountain knocked me down, now I'm going to climb right back up it. Gotta get to Timmy._

The slide he'd been caught in had pushed him about thirty feet before it had slowed in a small saddle. There were no insurmountable obstacles between him and the top, and the slope was only about half that of the trail they'd struggled up a little over an hour before, but for some reason his trudge was incredibly difficult. _Shouldn't be...this hard,_ he groused as he limped along. A tiny fire lit up in his left calf with every step, suggesting that he'd acquired a decent gash in the back of his leg. It didn't matter; he could walk for now, and that meant he could get to Tim. So long as he could do that much, the rest would wait.

As he drew close to the top he discovered that the last three feet of elevation he needed to gain had transformed into a vertical bank. Stopping, he stared at it dully. Normally such a thing wouldn't have given him so much as an instant's pause, but in his current state it required thought to overcome. _Well, what the hell. I'm already dirty_. With that in mind he bent forward at the waist, stretched his arms over his head, and half-rolled, half-dragged the rest of his body onto the next level. _There. That's done. Almost there..._

Struggling to his feet once more, he found that the spot they'd eaten lunch in was obliterated. Every rock had been thrown willy-nilly, some cracking in violent collisions with their brethren, others simply rolling over and showing their damp, mossy underbellies in a submissive manner. The worn line in the earth that they had been following since the road no longer broke straight towards the far side of the ridge, but looked instead like someone had dropped a chicane in the middle of it. A ground squirrel lay nearby, dead of the sort of crushing damage that he himself had come close to sustaining. The hilltop was completely unrecognizable save one thing, and one thing only.

Dick felt a grin spread across his lips as he spotted his brother, facing away from him in the middle of the destruction with his shoulders slumped and one hand over his face in a universal gesture of despair. _Timmy. You're safe_.

His misbehaving foot caught a loose stone and sent it skittering away as he started forwards. The younger man stiffened, then turned around wearing an expression of wary hope. Their eyes met, and Tim's bulged. "Dick!"

Each crossed the ankle-twisting summit as quickly as he could. Tim slipped in his haste, hitting his already butchered knees and giving a yelp that left Dick wincing. He leaped back up immediately, however, and kept coming, the dirty streaks where tears had run down his cheeks becoming visible as he grew closer. They met in an embrace that was more of a crash than anything, and stood in one another's arms for several long minutes.

"...Oh, god, I was so afraid you were dead," was whined.

"I'm right here, little brother. It's okay. Also," he added, "I'm sorry."

"Huh? Why...what...?"

"I knew we were in a park, but I didn't realize it was an amusement park," he joked hoarsely. "They've certainly got the hair-raising roller coaster down pat, don't you think?"

The figure in his grasp tensed. Then a sobbing laugh broke out against his shoulder, and Tim gripped him tighter. "Dick...jesus...of all the things to come up with right now..."

"Thought I'd lighten the mood," he answered, swaying slightly. Now that he'd found his brother and his adrenalin was receding he was beginning to feel light-headed. "Uh...do you mind if we sit?"

"Just one more minute," a plea came. "Please? Unless..." Pulling back, Tim looked him up and down. "Christ, you're bleeding! Why didn't you say something?!"

"I was busy hugging you. It seemed more important at the time. Seriously, though..." He blinked hard. "...Sitting would be good."

"Over here. It's a little ways away, but you can sit on my pack. You don't want to try the ground; these rocks hurt."

"Tell me about it. Gah!" His leg tried to give out, forcing him to grab his brother's shoulder for stability. "...Sorry. I don't know what's going on with that..."

"We'll look once you're sitting. That's a pretty fantastic head wound you've got going on. Come on, this way."

Fingers still twitching with fear dug into his waist and latched around his wrist. He held on just as greedily, needing constant contact in order to keep himself from breaking down both physically and mentally. _...We both could have died just now_, the seriousness of their close call began to sink in as he hitched himself forward. _As big as that earthquake was, we could both still die out here. If there's an aftershock...we've got to get off of this mountain. Stick together, and get off the mountain_. "Timmy-"

"Hold on. Almost there...here. Sit, I've got you."

The distance they'd traveled wasn't what he'd been about to bring up, but he didn't argue. "Eeeahh," he flinched as he was lowered onto the long side of his brother's pack. "Your bag of many things doesn't make a very comfortable bench."

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly plan for this part of the trip."

"...I know." I'm sorry. I wish I'd known what was coming...

"I didn't mean it like that," Tim apologized. "It was a really great time until Mother Nature decided we weren't working hard enough."

"Heh. Yeah." Taking a deep breath, he coughed once more. "It was."

Neither spoke for a moment. "...Will you be okay here long enough for me to get your pack? I think it's around here somewhere, and it's got all the first-aid stuff in it."

"Um..." The last thing he wanted to do was split up, even if the distance between them would only be a few feet. Their separation had been measurable on that scale before, too, and yet Tim had been in tears by the time they found each other again. "...Just hurry?"

"I will," a nod answered. "Be right back."

He closed his eyes while he waited, hoping that by curbing the pounding in his head he might feel less woozy. _We have to get out of here...poor Bruce is going to be worried sick. And Dami...if he thinks the last thing he ever said to me was that he prefers to be alone, who knows what he'll do to try and get to us_. Too-early hope convinced him to brave the sunlight, and he tilted his head back to scan the sky. Finding it empty, he sighed. _They'll come. There must be a lot of people in trouble after something like this, but Batman will come for us first._ It was just how the man operated, and while usually Dick would have preferred that his mentor focus on the civilians first in this case he was eager to see a familiar black plane hove into view.

"Here we goooh, jesus," Tim returned with a gasp.

"…What's wrong?"

"Well, I figured out what's going on with your leg."

"Really?" Curious, he turned the limb in question. The dripping shard of scree that had lodged itself in the back of his calf protested the movement, but he persevered. "...Oh," he remarked when he spotted it. "Yup, that would explain a lot."

"We're going to have to extract that." The younger man was suddenly all business, rifling through the bag he'd retrieved until he found a plastic box. "It's going to hurt like hell, too, and all we have is ibuprofen."

"Timmy, wait." Dick reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We can't pull it out. Not here."

"...What? Dick, it can't stay in there. We need to clean the wound out and stitch it, you know that." He peered at him. "How hard did you hit your head, exactly? We're going to have to stitch that too, I think..."

"No," he denied. "I mean, yes, but not right now. We have to get off of this hill first."

"Are you kidding? Look, it's not comfortable, I know, but this is the highest point along our path. When people come looking for us – when Batman comes look for us – this is the best possible place for us to be."

While he was glad to see that his brother's moment of frightened uncertainty had passed, Dick wished he wasn't making so much sense. "That's true," he agreed, his jaw tightening as fresh fireworks went off behind his eyes, "but what about in the meantime?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean aftershocks. I don't really want to take another fall down that same hill, do you?"

"…No." A visible shudder ran down the other man's spine. "No, I don't." His mien grew perplexed as he sat back on his haunches. "...We'll run out of water in no time up here, too," he grimaced. "And if the wind picks up it could take the tent right off of the mountain. Shit, Dick...you're right." He shook his head. "I guess I'm still a little out of sorts if you're out-logicking me with a probable concussion, huh?"

"It was a scary thing, little brother. There's no shame in being 'a little out-of-sorts' after something like that."

"Yeah, but...still. Anyway," Tim blew out a puff of air, "I'm addressing that head wound before we go anywhere. Don't argue."

"I won't. But the rock stays where it is until we're camped." There was no telling how much blood he might lose once they pried it out of the cave it had made in his leg, he knew, and he didn't want to have to be carried down to a safer location.

"Agreed. Now hold still."

He shut his eyes again and did as he'd been told, trying not to flinch as his forehead was scrubbed with both water and peroxide. To his relief his caretaker decided that sewing might not be necessary after all, and made do with butterfly closures, a thick square of gauze, and copious amounts of medical tape. Looking up as Tim announced that he was finished, he caught sight of a new problem. "What happened to your finger?!"

"Huh? Oh...I just jammed it. It's not a big deal. What do you use your pinkie for, anyway?"

"Lots of things. Pinky promises, for one." Grabbing the affected hand, he pulled it close. "...Timmy, this is more than jammed. I think you dislocated your fingertip."

"Did I? Well...look, just leave it for now. I know you want to fix it," Dick's protest was overridden, "but you were right before. We need to get out of here, and if you pop it back in right now it'll just make things harder because it will have to be buddy taped. If we're going back down this hill, I need all the functional fingers I have available. So let's do it later, okay? I'll do your leg, you can do my finger. I might have you clean out my knees, too. Deal?"

His brother was right, and he hated it. It hurt to look at the damaged joints and know that they would have to stay twisted and bloody until they were on better ground, a trek which would be delayed due to his own injuries. _I can fix you_, he pouted internally. _Let me fix it, Timmy. I hate it when you're in pain... _"Give me a couple ibuprofen," he said instead, "and take a couple yourself. We're going to need them. We'll try this whole medical thing again at...at the bottom." _Assuming we make it. No…no, we'll make it. We'll stick together, and we'll make it. We can do this._

"Okay. Good. Here; I figured we'd need pills, so I already pulled them out."

"Nice work, little brother."

The downed their medicine and stood up. Before they lifted their packs onto their backs – Dick had no idea how well that would work with a pounding headache and a bad leg, but he supposed he'd cross that bridge when he came to it – they approached the edge they had come over to begin with and peered down.

"...Hey, Timmy?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really regretting not buying some of that climbing gear you suggested now." The small segments of trail that still existed were no worse than they had been before, but in between them were littered rocks and loose gravel that looked primed to send them falling to their demises at the first wrong step.

"You too, huh? Shit." A beat passed. "I'd say the other direction, but..."

"But what? Anything's got to be better than ye olde slide of death here."

"Sure, but what's the point of going further into the park? We know what's behind us, and its mostly open fields. Well...it was mostly open fields. Who knows what it is now. Probably a freaking ocean. Either way, though, if we end up having to walk the whole way to the road on our own I don't really want to have to scale this thing a second time, you know?"

"...Yeah. Okay. You have a point." _I don't think I ever want to be on top of this stack of rocks again_, he thought without warning. _At least the grassland holds good memories_. "So...down we go?"

"I guess so. Down...down we go."


	16. Chapter 16

They had known that their descent was going to be a difficult one, but Dick hadn't fathomed just how stressful it would prove. Had he been uninjured, the almost two decades of free-running experience he possessed would have let him jog and slide down the long, steep slope with ease. As things were, though, every mincing step that didn't end with him cartwheeling towards the bottom of the mountain was a victory. _Cartwheeling would probably be easier,_ he lamented as the tumble of stones beneath his feet shifted dangerously. _This is deadly stuff, right here._

"Dick," Tim spoke. "You okay?"

He glanced over his shoulder. They'd combined their emergency parachute string with all of the excess cordage they could strip from their tent, sleeping bags, and packs and tied the various lengths together in a makeshift safety rope, which now dangled between them. It wasn't long enough to be tied around their waists and still leave them sufficient slack, so they'd compromised and secured it to their loads. With their waist straps fastened there was a decent chance that they wouldn't lose the bags in a fall, and so long as their rope held they might be able to save one another.

Tim's question had been brought on by the fact that he'd caught up, and was now standing less than a foot away with the excess line in his hand. "I'm okay," Dick nodded. "Sorry. It's really loose right here."

"...Can you make it?"

"Not much choice, really." He needed to hurry, he knew, but every ounce of training he had was screaming for him to use extreme caution. If he had been able to afford the time to listen to it he would have, but the only place that would be worse than the top of the hill in an aftershock was the side of it. They were barely clinging on already, and even a small quake would likely send them hurtling downwards at the behest of gravity. "...Here goes nothing," he sighed, and committed himself.

There was a gasp from above as he started to slide. Before any action could be taken to stop him, though, the movement ceased on its own. "...Whew." He'd gotten lucky, he knew, and he turned to his brother. "Stay there. I'm going to get as far as the rope will let me, then step off and wait for you." If Tim started to go he would have a better chance of stopping him from one side than from directly below, where he might be slammed into and dragged down with him.

"Right," a pinched reply was given. "Be careful, Dick."

"You know it."

They worked their way down the rest of the mountain like that, leapfrogging one another so that there was always an anchor in place. "Okay," he smiled weakly once they'd reached flat ground. "That was easy, huh?"

Tim looked at him as if he were insane. "If I didn't know you were joking, I'd think you needed to sit down and rest your scrambled brain."

"Scrambled brain? Don't say that too loud; the ghosts of the Donner Party might hear you."

"We're a bit far north for that," a snort of laughter rebutted. "...But a pack of cannibals is about the only thing that could put us in any worse of a situation."

"Yeah, let's not tempt fate. Especially," they turned away from the mountain they'd just come down, "since we still have like three miles of hills to deal with before we're back on flat land."

"Ugh...you don't think we could get away with just staying in the valley here, do you?"

"Maybe we could. But I don't really want to find out I'm wrong by waking up in the middle of two opposing rock slides."

"Point taken. Can your leg handle all the stuff we came over this morning, though? It's got to be getting stiff."

"It is," he acknowledged. "And the ibuprofen is...well, it won't be my drug of choice the next time I have a chunk of rock stuck in me, that's for sure." He would just have to deal with it for now in anticipation of Tim fixing it for him later. "But at least these other hills shouldn't be as bad. The slopes were gentler, that's for sure."

"Yeah. They were. But 'were' is the operative word here. Who knows what they're like now?"

Dick sighed. "I guess we're about to find out."

"I guess so. You want to lead?"

"Mm...You'd better, at least for the climb up. I'm more likely to go down than you are, and I don't want to be above you if that happens."

"...Right."

Their world narrowed until it was no larger than the distance they were from each other at any given moment. Each rise was a little smaller and flatter than the last, but the trail stayed broken and loose. Dick found that going up was much easier on his leg than going down was, but at least their descent system allowed him regular breaks while he acted as a lifeline for Tim. Despite the progressively easier terrain and his frequent opportunities to pause, though, by four o'clock he felt like he had a peg below his left knee instead of flesh and bone.

His brother, too, seemed to be in need of a more prolonged rest than could be taken on the hillsides. "God, I'm so sore," he moaned as he came down the last stretch of a low ridge. "Me, too. And hungry." Glancing up at the slopes flanking them, he pursed his lips. "We could stop and eat something, if you want."

"That sounds good, but...I don't think we have much further to go."

"You want to push it?"

"...Yeah. I do. Can you make it?"

He set his jaw. "I can make it, if it's not too far. Let's go."

Tim's prediction had been right. From the top of the next ridge the beginning of the grassland could be seen, waving alluringly from a mile and a half away. _So close_, Dick groaned to himself, _but so far. I can make it_, he added, trying to infuse fresh determination into the well he'd about tapped dry today. From what he could see it appeared that they were atop the last of the big hills; if he made it past here, the rest should be a piece of cake. _I've already done three and a half miles on this leg; another one is nothing, especially on flatter ground. We're golden so long as we just keep going..._

They started down using their tried-and-true method. As they approached the bottom, a little glow of joy began to come through the dirt on both of their faces. They had made it, almost; they were just about out of the worst area, and they were both alive and relatively sound. Passing Tim, Dick gave him a thumbs-up and got a grin in return. _Home free, little brother,_ he smirked. _Just about home free._

The earth disagreed. It shuddered beneath him suddenly, making him stumble. _Not again,_ his mood turned from elation to dismay as he caught himself. _Let us off this slope, and then rumble. Please..._

But there was no reprieve. A second after the first shake another followed, and while it was nothing in comparison to the original temblor it was enough to knock him off of his unsteady feet. Crying out, he began to slide. He stuck his hands out to slow himself, but all he succeeded in doing was bloodying them against the jittering rocks beside him. _The rope,_ he held out one last hope. _If Tim's still standing, then maybe the rope..._

He jerked to a stop. _Oh thank god..._ An instant later the still-falling stones began to come over the top of his pack, and he had to throw his arms up to protect his head. Heavy blows landed between his elbows and wrists, but he didn't dare lower them while the quake went on. How long, he wondered, would his brother be able to hold him without being pulled down himself? _Just a little longer, Timmy,_ he begged. _Just another minute. It's got to end sometime._

Before it could, a high-pitched strum sounded above him. Immediately his fall resumed, and he knew the rope had given out. Acting on instinct, he curled up as best he could and tried to roll. All he could see were lumps of murderous stone and the occasional flash of now partly-cloudy sky, so he closed his eyes. _Ride it out, Grayson. Just cover your head and ride it out._

The worst of the shaking died away, but he kept sliding, unable to stop himself in his hedgehog position and unwilling to untuck and risk greater injury. He finally halted when his pack connected with a stationary boulder, which jolted him hard enough to draw a scream. Every scrape, cut, and bruise sang, setting his nerves afire in protest of their abuse. _Ow, ow, jesus that hurts... _

"Diiick!"

He looked up to find his brother pelting towards him wearing an expression of terror. "Slow down!" he choked out. _You'll fall. Don't fall, one of us being half-grated is bad enough._ "Tim, slow-"

As he watched, the rocks beneath the younger man began to slip. He had to pick up pace in order to keep from falling, and Dick realized that he was going to run right past him. There was no telling how much distance was left between him and the bottom of the hill, but he had no intention of letting Tim go catapulting down it only to end up with more injuries than he already had. Leaning against the boulder for support, he shoved himself upright and reached out. He pulled as soon as his fingers found fabric, and they both fell to earth. _Gotcha! Owww..._

A series of gasping little moans were all that escaped either of them for several long seconds. "...Timmy," he murmured eventually, not opening his eyes.

"Dick...fuck, man. This day..."

"Yeah."

"Are you okay? The rope snapped, I was trying to hold on, I swear, and the stupid thing-"

"I'll live, little brother. Relax."

There was a rustle, and then hands turned one of his arms over for an examination. "Jesus, you're a mess. I'm sorry..."

"It's not your fault. Don't blame yourself. It's just...earthquakes."

"You hit this rock hard. Are you sure you're okay?"

"My bag took most of the impact. I'm okay, just scraped up." He popped an eye open finally and gave his brother a once-over. "What about you?"

"Mostly just ready to be home, in bed, with a tray of anything made by Alfred across my legs."

"Heh. Yeah..." It sounded marvelous, but it didn't answer his question. "You're not hurt, though?"

"No. I would have been if I'd kept going, but you grabbed me." A guilty shadow passed behind Tim's gaze. "...On the plus side, we're at the bottom."

That was news worth smiling about. "Yay...only a few more hills to go..."

"They're barely hills, even. I think...I think we can make it from here, Dick, so long as you can still walk."

"I can walk," he said despite not being certain that it was true. "...Here, help me up."

With no rope and much shallower slopes in play, they abandoned their old routine and traveled side-by-side. Twice more the ground trembled under their feet, and in both instances they stopped and grabbed hold of each other. The shaking was little more than distant thunder in comparison to the tornadoes they'd faced earlier, though, and they pressed on each time.

By dusk they had reached the fringe of trees separating the hills from the plains, and now they encountered a whole new set of barriers to their progress. Much of the forest had fallen, leaving the trail obstructed or littered with small debris. Drained of all emotions that weren't exhaustion, Dick stared at the first downed trunk of serious size that they came to. _I can't climb over that,_ he thought, numb. _No way._

Fortunately he didn't have to. "Come on," Tim tugged on his shoulder strap to turn him in the right direction. "Trees are easier to walk around than mountains are. This way looks pretty good."

They wove through the maze on that logic and stepped out into clear space just as the first stars were coming out overhead. "...Are we here?" Dick inquired, swaying.

"Yeah. We're here. Just a little further, okay? We need to be away from the trees so they can't fall on us."

"'Kay." He walked on, his eyes more frequently closed than open as they advanced into the grassland. Tim's hand had been riveted to his elbow for some time now, guiding him along their path, and it tightened suddenly. "...Huh?" Peering around, he realized he'd fallen to his knees. "Oh...sorry."

"It's okay." The fingers that had been leading him on began to remove his pack. "We'll stop here."

"But...the trees?" He had no idea how far they'd come, but he didn't want his weakness to put them at risk.

"We're far enough away. Here, lay down."

He dragged his eyelids upward and tried to rally, aware that if he lay down he wouldn't be getting back up again for many hours. "I'll help with the...uh...the tent. And stuff."

"No. I can get it. Just lay down, okay? You're way more beat up than I am; leave camp to me."

"...You're sure? I can-"

"Lay down, Dick." Gentle but insistent pressure materialized on his shoulders. "Relax. I'll get everything set up, we'll have some dinner, and then I'm taking that rock out of your leg. It's not going to be pleasant, so just rest until then. It won't take me long."

He slumped backwards. "...You're the best, Timmy."

"It takes one to know one. Now close your eyes."

He obeyed, and let the world fade away.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: Sorry for the gap yesterday, I was down with a head cold. It seems to have gone now, so we should be back on schedule. Happy reading!**

* * *

Tim watched his brother's eyes flutter shut, waited a moment to make sure he was truly out, and then stood up with a sigh. He wanted nothing more than to lay down beside him and pass out, but there was a lot to do before that could happen and he was the only one fit to do it. Resigned, he shrugged off his pack and got to work.

The last tendrils of daylight turned the clouds a magnificent pink as he popped the tent up. Not wanting to be caught in the dark, he dug out a headlamp before he laid out their bedding. Just before he put down the second ground pad, he paused. He still had to deal with prying the rock out of Dick's leg, and he intended to perform that task in as sanitary a manner as possible. Grimacing at the prospect of performing surgery, he set the cushion aside to serve as a barrier between the injured man and the ground when the time came.

Next was dinner. Once the stove was set up – luckily it hadn't been damaged by the tossing and tumbling it had been subjected to since that morning – he opened the first bear canister. Not particularly caring what they ate so long as it filled his hollow stomach, he pulled out the top meal. "Vegetable beef stew," he read aloud. "That'll work. Thanks, Alfred."

The neat instructions on the package told him it would take fifteen or twenty minutes to cook once he'd poured in the boiling water. Knowing full well that he would fall asleep if he didn't keep working on something, he retrieved the first-aid kit, checked on his sleeping partner, and limped back to the stove. Dropping to the ground, he cut his pants off above his still-seeping knees and tried to assess the damage.

"...Shit," he cursed as the light reflected off of the tiny slivers of stone bristling out of his skin. There was no way he could stand to yank all of them himself, but he didn't dare leave them in place where they might work their way inwards and cause real issues. Dick would be happy to help him when he woke up, but he hated to ask for his assistance. Normally he wouldn't have hesitated, but the difference between their wounds had him feeling like heneeded to be the caretaker for once.

_Pathetic, Drake_, Damian's sneering voice filled his head suddenly. _He walked miles with a chunk of the planet sticking out of his leg, and you can't deal with a scraped knee? There are toddlers more resilient than that._ It shouldn't have mattered what the demon-child would think of him, but for some reason it did this time. Maybe, he frowned, it was because for once the little shit would be correct in his assessment.

Taking the tweezers out of their plastic sleeve, he dunked them into what little was left of the boiling water. He flinched at the first tug, and had to bite his tongue at the second. A low groan escaped him as the third shard, the longest one yet, ripped free from his flesh. He'd never been one for medicine despite his penchants for orderly systems and problem-solving, but he had to keep going. He might not be able to get through them all, but every sliver he pulled was one less for Dick to search for later. Thin rivulets of crimson trickled towards his socks, threatening to make them the same color as the rough edges of his now-cutoffs, but he pushed on. _Just...just a few more..._

He'd nearly cleared one knee when the earth shook beneath him. The anguished moan that had been sitting at the top of his throat since he'd started his procedure slipped out, and he dropped the tweezers. _Not again!_ He glanced about in fear, his light picking up nothing but swaying grass. _Not another one. Please, please, no more of this!_

It stopped almost as soon as it had started, leaving him to slump with relief. A second later he straightened at the sound of a panicked cry.

"Timmy!"

"I'm okay!" he called back. As he spoke the words, he realized that they were true, and his terror eased further. "Just stay there, I'll come to you!" Picking up the pouch of stew and the tweezers, he stumbled towards the tent. "Hey. Lay back down, would you? I'm okay."

Dick, who had pushed himself up into a sitting position, refused. "You're bleeding more," he pointed to his legs. "Did you fall again, in that last one?"

"No, I was working on them. See?" Tim fingered the raw cuts he'd made in his pants. "I was sitting down when it came. Here," he held out their dinner. "Can you hold this while I get the cups?"

"Yeah, I'll take it."

Unwilling to try bending after the plucking he'd put himself through, he simply thumped to the ground when he returned. "...Ow," he winced.

"That sounded bone-jarring."

"It was. Here..." Taking the bag back, he quickly spooned out a cupful and passed it to his brother. "It smells good."

"It does. Thanks for cooking while I was being lazy."

"You weren't being lazy, Dick. You need to rest. You're hurt."

"Yeah? So are you."

"Not nearly to the same level, and you know it."

"Blah, blah, blah." Tim didn't have to see the older man's eyes to know that they were rolling. "...Eat your dinner, little brother."

"You go first."

A contentious beat passed before Dick chuckled. "Heh. Okay, okay." He took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. "There, I'm eating. Now, you're not reallygoing to make us do this turn-based, are you?"

"...No," he smiled. "Let's just eat."

"Deal."

They were too exhausted for more talk than that, and ate by the glow of the headlamp in silence. When Tim had scraped his cup clean, he looked over. ...Are you sleeping again? "Dick?"

"Huh?! Oh...sorry. Guess I sort of dozed off. Good thing we're not at home, Alfred would have my head for sleeping at the table."

"I think he'd forgive you, considering things. Are you done?"

"Yeah."

He made to stand, but fingers closed on his arm. "What is it?"

"Let me see your finger. If we wait any longer to put it back it might not heal right."

He gulped, nervous. "...After I clean up, okay? I left the stove out in the grass, and our stuff needs washed. The last thing we want to do is to draw a bear into camp."

"You make a excellent point there. It's so good, in fact, that I have to add to it."

His brow creased. "What do you mean?"

"You want to take this rock out of my leg, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, if we're going to bleed all over the place, don't you think we should do thataway from camp, too?"

"...Oh. Well...yeah, but...you shouldn't-"

"Would you quit worrying about me and just help me up, then?"

"I-!" For a second he thought he was being called out for his fretting. The question had been asked playfully, though, and a light squeeze to his wrist told him that his brother wasn't upset with him. "...Okay," he agreed. "Ready? One, two-"

"Three! Whooooa..."

"Too fast?" he asked as the man beside him wavered. "You can sit back down if-"

"No." A warm weight materialized on his shoulder as Dick searched for stability. "I'm good. I'm...I'm good now. Let's hobble, shall we?"

They hobbled. Between them they must have made one hell of a sight, Tim mused as they inched their way across the mercifully flat plain towards the stove. As much as he wanted to be home, he couldn't help but be glad that they would have an opportunity to tend to their wounds before their mentor saw them. _He's probably half out of his mind right now, _he sighed. _...Sorry, Bruce. _

"You know something, Timmy?" a curious inquiry broke into his thoughts.

"What?"

"I'm surprised Batman hasn't come yet."

He started. "Yeah, but...he'll come." _He's got to come. He wouldn't leave us out here._

"Oh, I know he will. I'm amazed that nine hours have passed without him showing up, that's all. Oof," he winced, a flash of agony bolting across his expression as he was lowered to the ground. "...I'm just saying that that implies that there was something else that he and everyone else in the JLA had to deal with first. And that doesn't bode well, you know?"

"...No. No, it doesn't." The elder vigilante would go so far as to put chasing the Joker aside if one of his birds needed help; what, he wondered with a grain of fear, would outrank the clown far enough to make a rescue mission for not one but two of them a secondary priority? "...It would have to be a global threat, wouldn't it?"

"I think so, yeah. And here we are," Dick waved his hands, "completely unable to help." He heaved a sigh. "...I'm sorry. I'm glad we came, don't get me wrong, but...why did something major have to happen right now, you know?"

"Yeah...but to be fair, we're just postulating. We don't knowthat anything has happened in the rest of the world. Everything might be fine." A worm of doubt in the pit of his stomach suggested otherwise, but he forged ahead anyway, trying to convince himself as much as his brother. "He might not even know we're in any trouble. I mean, it was a big quake and all, but maybe it didn't cause that much damage in the populated areas. It might have been nothing more than a footnote on the news, you know? Especially in Gotham; there's always enough going on there to fill an hour's broadcast without ever leaving the city limits. If we didn't call for help, why would he think..." He trailed off, his eyes going wide as he realized they had forgotten something exceedingly important. "Oh, shit."

Dick seemed to have read his mind. "We didn't turn on the emergency locators, did we?" he asked from his seat on the ground.

"Ah...no. No, we didn't. Ugh..." He facepalmed. "I can't believe this..."

"Pfffft!" Dissolving into laughter, Dick fell backwards. "Ow! But god, that's hilarious! We didn't...we didn't turn on the locators. Aren't we brilliant, Timmy? Jeeeesus..."

He stared down at him. "Okay, now I know you have serious head trauma. How are you laughing about this?!"

"Because...because I've been sitting here thinking that the wh-whole world was in danger, and it turns out that Bruce probably doesn't even know we need him!" His giggles slowed. "Oh, man...I'm sorry. I'm glad, that's all. That's why I'm laughing; I'm glad. Are we going to get the most ridiculous looks ever when people hear this story? Yes, yes we are. But I'll take that over humanity being in jeopardy any day."

Viewed from that perspective Dick's amusement was understandable, if still not how Tim would have reacted in his place. "I guess I can see that," he nodded. "I also guess I should go turn them on now."

"Yeah...you do that, little brother. I'll wait here, if you don't mind."

_I'd prefer it that way. You need to rest_, he insisted for the hundredth time. "I don't. Be right back."

He returned with the ground pad he'd left out earlier. "They're on now. I did both of them so he doesn't think we got separated. Here, scoot onto this, would you?"

"...You know this isn't going to make what you have to do to me any more enjoyable, right?" Dick asked as he complied.

"I know. But it might keep you from getting an infection later, and that's worth it."

"We're going to have to share the pad that's left, then, because I'm pretty sure I'm about to bleed all over this one."

He winced at the idea of being the one to cause such blood loss. "You can have it. I'll be fine."

"Nope. We're sharing."

"We won't both fit."

"We will if we cuddle up."

There was no point in arguing, not when the topic was Dick and cuddles, so he didn't waste his breath. Besides, after the day they'd had he kind of _wanted_ to snuggle up against his big brother and let himself be held. It would certainly ease fears for both of them in the event that they were woken by another aftershock. "Fine. We'll share."

"Good." He rolled over with a hiss to expose the stone protruding from his calf. "Okay, Doctor Tim," a pained joke sounded. "Patient is prepped."

"Haha," Tim's mouth tightened as he crouched down. It was difficult to find a position in which one or both of his knees didn't scream that also allowed him to get a good angle on the injury, but after a bit of trial and error he ended up in an odd-but-serviceable hunch. Cutting through fabric that had been made stiff with dried blood, he shuddered. "Oh...god, Dick, this is worse than I thought." _How were you even walking? _he marveled as he uncovered the wound. _It must have gotten close to the bone, if not all the way to it...jesus, I don't have the right tools to deal with this._ His brother needed a real doctor, not his shaky, uncertain pretenses; that was all they had, though, so it would have to be enough. _I can do this, _he calmed his stomach. _I have to do this. I have to do this for Dick._

"What's it look like?"

"Um...you know how dogs have those funky backwards claws above their feet?"

"Yeeeah?"

"It looks like that, only...worse."

Dick twisted around to see. "...Eeeeww."

"Yeah."

"Get that thing out of there for me, would you?"

"...Yeah. It's...it's going to hurt though." _I don't want to hurt you,_ he thought miserably as he pulled on the lone pair of latex gloves that had come in the first-aid kit and wrapped his hands around the protuberance. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he didn't warn him when he was going to yank. _Please, please don't scream..._

"I know, but it has to-" His sentence cut off, his voice rising from its usual pitch into an ululating shriek as Tim placed a foot on his ankle and wrenched the rock free. The agonized wail lasted only a few seconds, but it echoed in the younger man's ears, leaving his cheeks wet.

"...Dick?" he whispered after a moment of quiet. Realizing that he still held the dripping stone, he made a sound of disgust and chucked it away. "Dick? Are...are you okay?" There was fresh wetness leaking out atop the dried trails on the older man's torn skin, but he ignored it. Dragging himself to his brother's head, he tilted his chin up. "Dick...oh." _Unconscious. I can't really blame you. That had to hurt, especially with nothing but ibuprofen in your system._

"I'm sorry," he breathed, a few tears slipping down his cheeks as he leaned down to bury his face against an insensate shoulder. "I'm sorry...I know I had to, but...I'm so sorry..."


	18. Chapter 18

A half hour later Tim was gratified to hear a moan. "I think you can wake up without too much misery now," he advised. "The worst part's done."

It was as done as he could make it with his limited materials, at least. He'd used a great deal of what was left of their water to irrigate the gaping wound the rock had left, but after that his options had been limited. While he'd been unable to see bone at the bottom of the gash, it was deep enough that had they been at home it would have been given several layers of stitches to help it heal faster. With finite supplies, inadequate light, and no experience suturing, however, he had deemed it best to retreat to the top of the wound and do what little he could. Drawing on the simplistic instructions in the grainily-printed first-aid manual and what he could remember of injuries he'd had in the past, he'd sewed the skin shut and wrapped it in bandages.

That process alone had taken up the majority of the time that Dick had been out. Once he'd placed the last piece of medical tape, he had turned to the myriad lacerations on the older man's hands and forearms. Here he had felt more confident, and his fingers had slowed in their shaking as he'd scrubbed the scratches with antibacterial wipes. A thick layer of bacitracin – they had a copious quantity of that, if nothing else – sealed the nicks and scrapes from dirt. It was as he was putting the lid back on the ointment's tube that his brother stirred, and he had rarely been more pleased with someone else's timing.

"Ugh...Timmy?"

"Right here."

"Next time we go hiking...let's wear body armor, kay?"

"We'd be a hell of a lot less beat up," he agreed. "...Sweaty, though."

"Yeah, but we're used to that. And we reek anyway." Dick turned his head until their eyes met. "I'd give anything for a bath right now."

"You couldn't have one with fresh stitches. A shower, maybe."

"Stitches? Aww..." A grin appeared. "You _really_ gave me stitches?"

"I, uh...I didn't have much choice," he shivered. "It was really deep. They're rudimentary, and I knowthey're going to have to be redone, but...I did what I could."

"You did great," a freshly-cleaned hand reached out to pat his shoulder. "I know you hate medical stuff, so that makes it doubly awesome that you managed stitches. Stitches," he wondered, shaking his head. "I'm proud of you, little brother."

He turned his face away so that his blush wouldn't be visible in the headlamp's glow. "...Thanks, but you might want to hold off on that emotion until we see how well they hold. For all I know they'll all pop out as soon as you move. I hope not," he added quickly, "but it's not like I've ever given them before."

"I know. But tell me; is your tongue bleeding?"

"Huh?" _Maybe I should check your head again,_ he frowned.

"I said, is your tongue bleeding? I only ask because I'm betting you had it between your teeth the whole time you were working."

"Oh..." His cheeks grew hotter, but he smiled. "Maybe a little bit."

"Then I'll bet not a single one of those stitches you put in pop out. But," Dick rose onto his elbows, "now it's my turn to play doctor. Help me up so that you can lay down."

"Um...I'm okay," he insisted, keeping his attention on reorganizing the medical kit. _No more_, he pleaded. _Can't we just go to bed?_

"Timmy..."

The gentle big-brother-grade reassurance with which his name was spoken made him feel like he was being a complete baby, but he couldn't help it. Everything that had happened in the last twelve hours was encroaching on the tiny corner of his mind he'd managed to keep clear enough to function in, and he was too tired to push it back any more. "...I'm sorry," he sniffed.

"It's okay. Hey?" Fingers curled against his shoulder and tugged him around. "Look at me. It's okay. I'm upset too. It's okay."

"You don't look upset. You look...you look like a fucking _pro_ at this. Damn it..." He swiped at his face, angry at his weak emotional walls. If Dick had needed to sew _him_ shut, he bet there wouldn't have been any hesitation, shaking, or tears involved. "...I'm sorry..."

"Stop apologizing. If it'll make you feel better to see me cry, Timmy, just keep going, okay? Because to be honest, seeing you cry right now will be all it takes to push me over the edge."

The admission tempted him to look up. "...Really?"

"Really. I'm only half a step back from where you are right now, especially after that hunk of yuck you pulled out of me," Dick teased kindly, then sobered. "To be honest, the only reason I'm not right up there on the edge of a total breakdown with you is sheer experience. Even then, most of my time dealing with stuff like this has been mask time, and you know as well as I do that that's different."

"Yeah," he agreed. "It...it is." For all that they knew that what they did in costume was real, and more real in some ways than their daily lives were, their masks provided a mental filter that nothing else in the world could duplicate. With their eyes hidden from the world they felt stronger and more resilient than they could ever be as just Dick and Tim; it was only when their alter egos were sleeping that the nightmares came. They had had no protection today, though, no lenses to look through, and try as he might Tim couldn't tap into the power of Red Robin's mask from a continent away. "...I just want to be home, Dick. That's all I want right now."

"Join the club," a chuckle sounded. "But right now we're here, and we'll get through it. At least we've got each other, huh?"

"Yeah. Jesus..." _What would I do without you?_ "I feel like such a wimp."

"Why? You're doing great!"

"Sure, but you're...I'm supposed to be the strong one right now," he sighed. "You have every right to be the one on the verge of tears, and here I sit, needing you to pick me back up...Damian's right. I am pathetic."

"No, Tim. You're not," Dick said, his tone turning serious. "And I'll tell you two reasons why. First of all, you can't help how you feel, and there's no shame in it. Besides, as much as I appreciate you taking care of me – and I do, don't misread me on this – I'm not afraid to throw my title around and insist on big brother privilege when it comes to taking care of you in return. Second, if Damian was here instead of you, I guarantee you he'd be just as shaken as we are. He'd make me work a heck of a lot harder to get him to show it, but he'd want a big hug right now, too. So make things easy on me and lean in, would you?"

He didn't think twice, but just slumped to the side. Warm, salve-sticky arms wrapped around him and squeezed, and he returned the gesture as best he could. It shouldn't have made him feel better, not when it didn't do a damned thing for their material situation, but somehow it did. "...Dick?"

"Mm-hmm?" was hummed above him.

"Um...thank you."

"You're welcome, Timmy. Now lay down and let me see your knees. I don't really have the energy to pin you, but I'll find it if I have to."

The half-serious threat drew a bark of laughter from his throat. "Okay," he nodded as he pulled back. "I guess after what I did to you I deserve to have a few slivers plucked."

"Deserve? No. You're seeing the unsavory side of big-brother privilege, that's all." The headlamp's beam caught Dick's expression for an instant as they changed places, highlighting a hopeful sadness that Tim wasn't sure he'd ever seen before. "...Maybe someday you'll understand just what I mean."

"What do you..." _Oh,_ it clicked. _Damian._ While he was prepared to admit that he might have come to understand the little jerk a bit better over the past few days, he didn't see them ever having a relationship on the level that Dick would have liked them to have. That was the last thing he could stand to say to the man after catching his look a moment before, however, so he fudged the truth. "Ah. Well...yeah. Maybe." _A big maybe_, he kept to himself. _White lies to spare your feelings; that's little brother privilege, at least in my book._

"I hope so," a wistful sigh was breathed. "But daydreams aside, I need the headlamp."

"Sure." A hand gripped his wrist when he extended the requested item, and he frowned. "What-"

A bolt of electricity ran up his arm from his once-crooked pinkie as Dick wrenched it deftly back into place. Through his scream Tim felt himself being guided backwards onto the ground pad. "Daaamn it," he sobbed as his hand screeched.

"It's okay. That was the worst part, I promise. The taping won't hurt at all compared to that."

"It's n-not that," he spat, mad at himself. "Although th-this sucks too..." _Fail, Drake. Ultimate fail._

"...Well what is it, then?"

"I sh-sh-should have seen it coming! Sneak attack...it's the same thing I d-did to you!"

"Yeah...but that's because you're the smart one, Timmy. You had the answer right before you even knew there was a question. If you have to do something painful to help someone while they're awake, always try to catch them by surprise. It keeps them from tensing up and making it harder to fix the problem the first time. Now hold still, huh?"

"Are you going to s-surprise me again if I do?"

"Nope. No more surprises. Well...not from me, anyway. Okay?"

Sniffling, Tim tried to relax. _He didn't enjoy that any more than you enjoyed seeing his leg all...filleted_,he told himself. _Don't make this any harder on him than it already is._ If there was one thing he had learned tonight, it was that putting someone you loved back together was one of the most horrible chores in the world. _God, how does Alfred do stuff like this for us all the time? You hear about stiff upper lips, but holy shit..._

He wasn't sure how long it took for Dick to finish cleaning him up. All he knew was that his buddy-taped hand was eventually laid on his chest and that after that the gentle squeeze that was applied just above his knee during each extraction acted as a vague anesthetic. Eventually a glob of the same cool antiseptic gel he'd been responsible for smearing on earlier landed atop his own wounds. "Mmph...is that it?" he asked.

"Yeah. I think that's it. Unless you've got something else you haven't told me about?"

"No. Just the same hundred thousand bruises you have."

"Ooh...a bath in bruise cream. How about that?"

_"Any_ bath would be great right about now."

"Speaking of water...we're low on it."

"I know. There wasn't much left when I finished with you."

"Well, there's even less now. We can make it until morning, but we're going to need more first thing."

_Great. Backtracking. _They had filled up at a small spring in the woods that morning, but there was no telling if it was still there after the earthquake. Water had been the last thing on his mind when he'd been guiding his brother through the dusk, and even if he'd seen it then he wouldn't have dared to stop. "I guess we'll do it in the morning, then."

"Yup. Okay...should we attempt to make it back to the tent?"

"It might be easier to just lay here and be bear bait," he winced. "Thoughts?"

"After you went through all the hassle of turning the locator beacons on? Nah, we'd better stay alive."

"You're right. Bats would be pissed if he flew all the way out here just to punch a bear into non-existence."

"Something like that." A beat passed. "...Boy, you know we're tired when our jokes get _that_ dark."

"True." He stuck his good arm up blindly. "Well, if we're done making dire forecasts of the future, can you pull me up?"

"If you can run a three-legged hundred-yard-dash with me, sure."

"Sounds like a plan."

They fumbled their way to their feet, grabbed the first aid kit and their water bottles, and began the long hobble back to the tent. Tim knew they were leaving things undone – the stove should have been packed away and the food ought to have been stashed at a distance from their cooking area, among other things – but they simply didn't possess the strength to deal with them. The strongest predator-drawing smells were away from where they would be sleeping, and that was good enough for tonight.

A flurry of flapping passed over their heads as they reached the midway point in their journey. "What the hell was that?!" he demanded, staring up into the dark sky. What stars there had been when night had fallen were mostly gone now, crowded out by gathering clouds, and he could see nothing. _Too dark_, he swallowed. A dark corner, a dark alleyway...those were one thing. This, though...with no walls or ceiling, the darkness was just too big. Anything could be out there, and we'd never know. Anything.

Dick, who still wore the headlamp, didn't look up. "Bats," he replied. "There are something like eight species in the park. I think you told me that, actually."

Now that he thought about it, he recalled reading something along those lines, and in the excitement of preparing for their trip he probably _had_ shared the factoid with his brother. "Right. Too bad it isn't the one type of bat we need," he snarked now. _I want to go home. It's dark, we're hurt, and there's still so far to go...where are you, Bruce?_

"...He'll come, Timmy. Just give him time. Watch, we won't even need to get water in the morning. We'll wake up to him unzipping the tent, and everything will be taken care of. Think about it; he was probably on patrol when you turned the beacons on. Figure an hour to finish up in town and get home after Alfred called him, and then another few hours to fly out here...he could be on his way already."

He wanted to buy into that scenario so badly that it hurt, but a nagging doubt that he couldn't explain hung on in the back of his head. "...You're probably right," he agreed anyway.

"Sure. He'll be here in the morning, and until then," Dick yawned as they approached the low dome of their shelter, "all we have to do is sleep. It's not such a bad deal, really."

"No. It's not." Sleep...he could do that, no problem.

It took a bit of adjusting to get themselves into the tent and situated on the single ground pad in a way that didn't leave one of them wincing. A few swallows of their dwindling water supply served to wash more ibuprofen down their throats, and after swatting a few mosquitoes they lay still. They were tucked tightly together, but Tim found he didn't mind; so long as there was an arm around his waist, he knew the other man was safely beside him, and that was comfort enough for him to be grateful for. Now if Bruce would just do as he was supposed to and show up overnight, all would be well...

"Tim?" a whisper pulled him back just short of slumber.

"Huh?"

"I know this trip hasn't turned out the way we planned, but...thanks for coming with me anyway. I wouldn't have had half as much fun with anyone else. I love you, little brother."

"...I love you too," he murmured back, screwing his eyelids shut to keep from dampening his pillow. "Sweet dreams, Dick."

"Sweet dreams, Timmy. And if they aren't sweet, for the love of all that's holy don't kick me in the leg. I'm begging you."

He bit back a snort of amusement. "I'll do my best."

"Thanks. Night."

"Night."

The low breathing behind him slowed into sleep, and his own respiration fell to match pace with it. Just before he dozed off, he moved his hand to cover the one draped across his stomach. _I never felt like I was missing out by not having a big brother when I was little, Dick_, he squeezed the older man's fingers, _but...I'm so glad that when I got one, he was you._

* * *

**Author's Note: I posted an amusing little Batman brain-teaser on my blog last night, in case anyone's interested in trying it out. Happy reading!**


	19. Chapter 19

It was nearly dark when they reached Los Angeles, and Batman took full advantage of that fact. Blacking the plane out, he skirted the city and descended slowly into an industrial district. Once they'd touched down on the rooftop of a factory, he shut the aircraft down and turned to his son. "Robin. Let's go."

The boy had been silent ever since they'd taken their seats for the ride to the Pacific. He had assumed that the pre-teen, who was no doubt just as exhausted as he was, had been sleeping. Now, though, he learned that Robin had been scheming and waiting for the proper moment. "No," his young, determined voice answered. "I'm not coming with you."

"...Correct," he arched an eyebrow under the cowl. "You _aren't_ coming with me. You're going back to the cave, and I am going to the Watchtower." There was no telling how much time it would take for the task force to get itself up to speed and formulate a plan, and he didn't want the youth to be up all night trying to stay attentive. _Go home and go to bed_, _Damian_, he bade silently. _Then I know you're safe._

"No," a protest was lodged. "Let me take the plane back out there. I can use magnification and try to find them while you work on the force field."

"You're not going to be able to find them from a thousand feet up, Robin. Even if magnification works, it's dark now, and we know that infrared comes back blank. You'll be blind."

"Infrared might come back blank, but regular light has to get through, doesn't it? Otherwise we wouldn't have been able to see the ground earlier. This thing has giant spotlights; if I use those and magnification together, I'll be able to see."

_Yes_. His heart leaped at the suggestion, but he kept his mouth firmly shut. To know that they were alive, that they were safe...there was very little he wouldn't have given for that reassurance. However, one of things on that very short list was the child facing him with petulantly crossed arms, and until he had a better idea of what was going on the risk was too great. "You're not going to be able to adequately search an area of over 700 miles, all of it mountainous, even with spotlight and magnification," he ruled. "Beyond that, we have no idea who or what is causing the force field, let alone what their intentions may be. No one is to go near that thing alone, do you understand? Not you, not me, not even Superman. No one."

"_They're_ alone, Batman! Even if I don't find them, seeing the lights and knowing that someone is at least looking...well, how would that make _you _feel, if you were them?"

"Like someone was wasting efforts that would have been better spent trying to get through." It was a lie, but it rolled off of his tongue as if it were the truth. He knew that just the sight of search lights would mean the world to both Dick and Tim, and he wanted to give them that consolation, but the desperate parent clawing in his guts forbade him to let Damian go without further information and back-up. "...I understand your desire to help, however," he went on, knowing that he had to give the boy _something _unless he wanted to face total rebellion. "Once the task force has determined a course of action, I will ensure that you have a role. But until then, you are to go home and stay there."

He expected a counter-offer, and he got it. "Let me come with you to the Watchtower."

"No. You're going home. You need to eat and get some rest."

"Some rest? How long is this meeting going to take?!"

"I don't know, Robin," he growled, fed up. _We're wasting time. For all I know everyone's already up there and waiting on me_. "I hope it won't be long, but I don't know. What I do know is that if you want to be present when we find your brothers you will do as I said and go home."

The child whipped his face away, his jaw working angrily. "...Fine," he spat. "If you're going to threaten me, I suppose I don't have any choice."

"No. You don't. Now let's go."

They slipped down through the building, whose empty offices and halls were kept as such by a shadow account of Bruce's. It was from there that the money for the guards who walked the passageways came as well, and as they sneaked past several of them he was pleased to see that they looked like professional men. Finally they came to a distant laboratory with a wall full of built-in storage just a bit taller than the tips of the cowl's ears. Gesturing for Robin to follow him closely, he stepped up to the shelving and slid a secret panel aside. A key pad slid out to greet him, on which he entered a code containing not just numbers and letters in various scripts but symbols that the vast majority of humanity had never laid eyes on.

'Access granted,' scrolled across the screen. The floor beneath his boots began to move, rotating them through the wall and into a hidden room. They stepped off, and as the door clicked shut again behind them the Zeta tube that took up most of the space came on. "Give it a minute," he warned the boy, who he knew was used to tube stations always being up and ready for use. "This one is kept off when we don't need it."

"Mmph."

It was an unhappy sound, but he let it slide. He understood Damian's aggravation at being sidelined, but there really wasn't anything he could do to help at this point. While he held out hope that the task force would be able to find a solution, it was half-hearted. Force fields of the kind that were keeping him from his sons were something they had never encountered before; if he was at a complete loss, how would the others fare with the brain-teaser?

Shaking his head, he activated his radio and tried to fill the empty time. "Base."

"No change on the screen, sir. I've been watching quite diligently." A beat passed. "I don't suppose you've had some luck on your end?"

"...No," he ground out. "I have a task force assembling at the Watchtower. Superman has pulled his head far enough out of his...Superman finally consented that one is necessary. Robin is coming back to the cave, and needs to go about his usual routine until I call for him again."

"Very good. I will see to the young master, of course. As for Superman..." Batman braced, wondering if he was about to be lectured for his near-swearing episode. "He did what he felt he needed to do, I'm sure. Try not to hold it against him; you know as well as I do that he cares very much for our missing boys and will be happy to see them home safe."

"Mm." He has an interesting way of showing it sometimes, his lip curled. "...I'm sending Robin through now. He can explain what we've learned so far." A fresh harrumph came from his side, but he ignored it. As unhappy as the boy might be about being sent home, he wouldn't object to sharing the details of their efforts with Alfred once he got there. The butler was no dummy, and Damian knew it; with the proper knowledge, he might be able to help.

"Excellent. Good luck in your efforts. I will continue my monitoring here and hope for the best."

"Good. Batman out." Ending the call, he glanced down at the figure beside him. "It's had time to warm up. Go ahead."

"Fine." Stomping forward, the child passed into the glow of the tube.

"The cave, Robin," he warned. "I'll know if you put in any other coordinates."

"I know! I'm not an idiot." He paused. "I'm going to help you find him, Batman. Them, I guess."

He gave him a single short nod, pleased. '_Them'. That's an improvement. Dick...Dick will be happy with it._ "Good. Now go; you'll need rest if you're going to help me to your best ability."

"...Right. Just..."

"Yes?"

"Just figure this out quickly. I don't see how the prattle of lesser minds will help you do that, but...just figure it out." His imperative issued, Robin fingered several numbers and disappeared.

An amused little hum escaped Batman's lips once he was alone. There was nothing to laugh at in their current situation, but the youth's order had struck him as funny. _I wonder if he realizes he complimented me just now,_ he mused as he walked into the cylinder. _If he does, he's no doubt kicking himself..._

The vague levity that had been injected into his mood fled as the Watchtower traffic room came into focus. Superman was waiting, talking tersely with one of the controllers as he did. "Batman," he cut off to greet him.

"Are the others here?" he asked, already moving towards the hall.

"Yes. It's a small group," the Kryptonian advised, matching his pace, "but I think we'll be able to come up with something."

"We'd better."

They stepped into one of the smaller conference rooms a minute later. Five people looked up, key among them Wonder Woman. She had clearly been given at least a partial briefing already, and when their gazes met she gave him a sympathetic smile. He grimaced back and dropped into a seat. _I don't want commiseration, Diana. I want results. _

"...Okay," Superman rubbed his hands together. "We're all here, so...Batman, why don't you explain the purpose of this group?"

He wasted no further time. "I assume you are all aware of the earthquake that occurred earlier today in the western United States. There have been ongoing signal issues in that area ever since, not unlike those that were noted after other, smaller quakes that occurred around the world over the last six months. These issues were reported on by Wonder Woman several Big Seven meetings ago, and she will give us an overview of what we know about them in a moment. What is different about this instance, however," he drew a breath, "is that there is a force field of approximately thirty miles in diameter covering the area of the epicenter."

There was a moment of shocked silence. "A real force field?" someone asked skeptically.

"I thought we couldn't make those?" another voice pitched in.

"Yeah, wouldn't we know if-"

"Quiet," Batman rumbled. "Yes, it's real. No, we can't make those. And yes, hypothetically we should have known if someone was developing that technology. But it got by us, evidently, and now there is one – a real one – over the epicenter. We've tried numerous ways to get through or around it, but to no avail. That being said, the purpose of this task force is to defeat the force field, discover who or what is creating it, and-"

He stopped speaking as the door opened. "Sorry," Flash poked his head in and searched the assembled faces. "...Damn. Someone told me you three were in a conference," he gestured at Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman, "and I thought you might have pulled Nightwing in with you. Um...do you know where he is? No one's seen him, and we've got some people trapped in tight spaces that only a contortionist can get through."

Superman's brow furrowed. "...Batman? Your call."

He thought quickly. It often seemed that there was no one in the JLA who didn't know and respect his eldest son, and he had no doubt that any one of the heroes sitting around the table would do whatever they could to help Nightwing or Red Robin. However determined the group would be once they understood the full extent of the situation, though, adding Dick's best friend to the mix seemed likely to do nothing but strengthen their resolve. Besides that, while Wally wasn't always the brightest bulb in the box he had an off-the-wall way of thinking that had yielded solutions in the past, and at this point Batman would take what he could get. If nothing else, he knew that the speedster would be just as unwilling to give up without bodies as he was, and that by itself was enough impetus to include him in their project. "Come in and shut the door, Flash."

"Uh...okay. Should I sit, or...?"

"Yes. You'll have to catch up as we go." _I'm sorry_, he apologized silently to the man who had been an integral part of making his firstborn's adolescence a happy one. _I know this is going to hurt you almost as much as it did Alfred, Damian, and I. But you deserve to know, and to be a part of this_. "As I was saying, the purpose of this task force is to defeat the force field, discover who or what is creating it, and...and to rescue Nightwing and Red Robin, who are trapped underneath of it and with whom no contact has been made since the quake hit."


	20. Chapter 20

As he'd expected would be the case, Flash paled at that announcement. "Wait..." he started, then trailed off. "Oh, god, their trip _was_ this week, wasn't it? I don't know why I thought...but that means they're down there as civilians!"

"Yes," Batman verified. "It does. And we all know what that means."

"No Batgear," the speedster's head sunk into one hand. "It means no freaking Batgear. Shit, man..."

Wonder Woman's expression reflected Flash's pain. "We'll find them," she said. "If anyone can survive an earthquake in the middle of the wilderness with no Batgear, Nightwing and Red Robin can."

"Yeah, but...how big was the quake, again?" a skeptical voice queried from somewhere down the table.

"Eight point eight was the official number I heard," Superman answered quietly.

"So...it's not really a _rescue_ mission, but more of a recov-"

Batman's wordless snarl shut the speaker's mouth instantly. "It is a rescue mission," he ground out, danger dripping from every word, "and it will be referred to as such until I say otherwise. Is that understood?"

"...I'm just trying to be-"

"He said it's a rescue mission," Flash broke in, looking up. His eyes were damp, but the hard resolve that the cowled man was counting on shone beneath his unshed tears. "Didn't you hear?"

"I...um...yeah. Okay. Rescue mission."

"Good." Batman's lip twisted momentarily – _you son of a bitch, don't you even dare __think __that this is a recovery mission, just because __you __couldn't handle an earthquake doesn't mean that my sons can't – _and then settled back into a thin line. "The problem of the force field is the first thing we need to tackle. We know that Nightwing and Red Robin are under it, and we can only assume that whoever created it is also down there. Furthermore, we have reason to believe that the creator of the force field is responsible for many, if not all, of the earthquakes that Wonder Woman has documented since the start of the year." He paused. "Go ahead with the report you gave the Big Seven, and with anything new you've learned since."

"Well, there's not much new, I'm afraid, but..." She launched into her explanation of the strange signal blackouts that had recently started occurring in earthquake zones the world over, going over what arrays had been affected and what they had already ruled out. A couple of her listeners began taking notes, and all appeared to be giving her their utmost attention.

Having memorized all of her numbers the first time he'd heard them, Batman let his thoughts wander. How, he ached to know, were his boys faring? Assuming that they hadn't both been gravely injured, he could almost picture the little camp they would set up in some open and relatively safe place. Had they made it to the end of the trail before the shaking started? He doubted it; the itinerary they'd laid out when they'd been planning had them reaching their goal at the end of the day today in the best-case scenario. _If they were going at their hoped-for pace, then they were well into the mountains at noon,_ he thought grimly. Still, they might have been able to retreat to the grassland in which the Batplane had found the end of the force field late that afternoon. The force field...had they discovered _that_ little joy yet, he wondered, or did they still think they were moving about under open sky? If they had found it and determined that there was something sinister going on within its confines, it was a given that only extreme physical hardship would keep them from trying to resolve the problem on their own. The idea of his likely injured and absolutely unmasked children going after someone capable of creating impermeable force fields made his skin prickle despite the heat of his suit, and he shivered.

_They're fine,_ he pulled himself back into form as the report wrapped up. _They're probably reveling in the additional challenge. Even if that isn't the case, they're together, and that makes all the difference. _No matter what happened, he knew he could count on them to take care of each other.

"...Batman?"

Wonder Woman's gentle address redirected the attention of the assembly to him. He cleared his throat to cover up that fact that he hadn't quite been fully extracted from his worried daydreaming, then barked a single word. "Ideas?"

"We've tried brute force and heat vision," Superman put in with a self-deprecating grimace. "Those are out."

"What about speed?" Flash suggested, leaning forward. "I know everyone's probably sick of that being my answer to every problem, but-"

"It's worth trying," Batman gave him a terse nod. "What else?"

"Digging?"

"It extends underground," he replied. "Try again."

"Is light getting through the force field?" someone asked.

He exchanged a look with Superman, who merely shrugged. "We think so. There was nothing to indicate that it wasn't. Why?"

"Just a thought. I was thinking about heat mapping. That in and of itself isn't very useful, I know, but...could we concentrate the sunlight somehow?"

"It's a force field, not a stick of butter," another voice rebutted. "You can't just melt it away in the sun."

"Besides," a third tone pitched in, "you might start a fire under the field. Then they'd really be screwed."

"Yeah, anything that might start a fire is definitely off the table," Flash deemed. "But I have to wonder...if heat's getting through, what about gas exchange?"

"How is pumping the dome full of gas going to kill them any less than starting a fire?" the ray-of-sunshine proponent shot.

"I'm not talking about pumping it full of gas. I'm just wondering how much oxygen there is under it." The table fell silent. "...Batman?"

The same question had occurred to him on the flight to Los Angeles, and his calculations had given him good news. "It's a large enough area that the plant and animal masses within it should be self-supporting for several weeks at least," he assured the redhead. "Depending on the amount of water trapped inside, the ecosystem may be able to go even longer."

"Okay," the speedster sat back, his face relieved. "Good."

They spit-balled proposals and scenarios well into the early morning. Messengers came and went with progress reports for Superman, but no one other than the Kryptonian paid them any heed. Many of the curious questions that were put forth about the field were topics that Batman would have liked to explore more in depth were the lives of two of his sons and who knew how many other people not in danger. For now they were unanswerable, though, and he hustled the conversation past them.

The burning inquiry behind everyone's ideas was who could possibly be responsible for the force field and, more importantly, for the earthquakes. If someone had caused the most recent temblor, they were already a mass murderer; add in the hundreds that had died overseas in seismic events bearing the same markers as that morning's and they were eligible for super-villain status. Despite their combined wealth of knowledge about people with evil intentions, however, no one could come up with a viable candidate. There were many who would have loved to wield such technology, but when it came down to it none of them had access to the amount of sheer power that would be required to develop it.

_Power...energy...how are they maintaining that field?_ Batman frowned as the others jabbered on around him. The thing was sitting over an expanse of unpopulated wilderness, so there was no way someone had tapped into a local urban grid. Anything along the lines of solar panels or wind turbines would have been noted and immediately quashed by the park, and no surface method that he knew of could steadily produce the necessary energy for such a structure in any case. _...Space, maybe?_

"Batman?"

He looked up, his mouth still pensive. "I was thinking about their power," he revealed without waiting for a query as to the nature of his introspection. "It can't be surface-derived, not unless they've figured out some way to use far less fuel than our experiments here have required. But space...are there records of any unusually large influxes of energy from outside the atmosphere over the past few years?"

"...No," Superman shook his head slowly. "Not that I remember. Not other than the usual solar flares. I can double check the logs, but I can't imagine we'd miss something like that. Besides, the few species that can manage a field of any sort are either friendly or not operating anywhere near Earth. Even if one of them coulddo this, they have no reason to."

"I wasn't thinking of an alien species causing the quakes; I was just thinking of someone on Earth harvesting extraterrestrial energy. Let's check the logs."

"Will do. Do you want to call it a night and try out a couple of the better ideas we came up with, or...?"

He had restrained himself from adjourning the session prematurely, trying to hold out for an epiphany. People were beginning to repeat their earlier proposals, though, and everyone was becoming dull-eyed besides. "We'll adjourn," he decided. "What we have is likely the best we're going to get without more information."

"All right. Everyone, take a few hours for a nap if you need to, then rejoin the groups you were with before I called you. If you have any other ideas, let Batman or I know immediately. And try to keep the scuttlebutt to a minimum, folks," Superman called after the already-departing heroes. "The last thing we need is for everyone to get distracted with going over the same things we just did."

Wonder Woman gripped Batman's shoulder as she passed. "They'll be okay," she gave him a hopeful smile. "I know it's hard right now, but...they'll be okay. We all will."

"Mm." _God, I hope you're right, Diana. You have to be right. You just...well. Of course you're right. They're fine. They're just...fine._

Sighing, she patted him and left. After a minute only he, Superman, and Flash remained.

"Flash?" the Kryptonian queried. "Was there something else?"

"You need me for the speed test, remember? Besides, I...I'd like to stick close to Batman on this one. As odd as that is to say," he grinned nervously, "I know that come hell, high water, or the out-and-out apocalypse you're going to be the first person who gets to them. Me, I'd kind of like to be second or third in line, so...yeah. If that's okay, of course, I don't want to-"

"It's fine."

"...Well, I guess I'll stay up here and focus on the logs, then," Superman commented. "I'll let you know if I find anything unusual."

"Good. Let's go, Flash," he stood. "I have some business at the cave. You may as well accompany me there; we'll need the plane for a couple of the tests I still want to run on the field."

"I could go out ahead of you and get started on the speed test," the younger man suggested as they stepped into the hall. "Get one out of the way, at least."

"No." Catching the odd look his refusal earned him, he went on. "...I appreciate your ardor on this mission, Flash. It's a good match for my own. However, it won't do anyone any good if you vibrate yourself in there and then can't get back out. I may not be able to do much more than observe your attempt, but at least if something goes wrong there will be a witness as to what did and did not work. Even if we don't succeed outright we might learn something about what we're facing, and when it comes to dealing with something so foreign to our experience the more eyes the better. Understand?"

"I get it. It just sucks." He rubbed his arms as if he was cold. "...I haven't see Nightwing in, like, two months," he shared sadly. "I've been too damn busy, or at least I felt like I was. If I'd put a little more effort in, though...I don't know. I just regret it now, you know?"

"...Mm. Yes, I suppose I do." How many hours did he spend locked in his study or at the office that he might have spent with one or both of them? It was the same problem he'd wrestled with since Dick had been a child, but he never seemed to learn his lesson. As it always did when one of his children was missing or badly injured, the realization of how he spent his precious time with them made him wince. "It might help to remind yourself that you'll be seeing them both very soon."

"Has that been helping you? Honestly?"

Batman paused in the midst of entering the cave's coordinates into the Zeta tube's keypad. Then he swallowed hard, hit the last few buttons, and saw the Watchtower dissolve in order to be replaced with the Batcave. "...No, Wally," he admitted once there were no listening ears around. "It hasn't helped me in the least."

"Well, shit. Oh!" the speedster jumped as Alfred came around the corner. "...Sorry. Didn't know you were there."

"Hello, Mister West," the harried-looking butler nodded. "My apologies for the informality of my greeting, but we have a new crisis on our hands, I'm afraid."

_What the hell else could possibly go wrong tonight?_ "What is it, Alfred? Has there been another quake somewhere?"

"No, sir, at least not that I know of. However, Master Damian is missing."

His stomach dropped into his boots. "What? When?" _God damn it, Damian, don't I have enough to deal with without you running off?!_

"Sometime in the last six hours. He was fast asleep when I checked on him just after two, but now his bed is cold."

A suspicion hit him. "What about the plane?"

"...Sir?"

"The plane. Did the plane come back?"

"Yes, but I've been down here the entire-" Alfred broke off, one hand rising to cover his mouth. "Oh, dear. I'm afraid I went upstairs to make a pot of tea at about three. I thought I heard something very distantly, but I chalked it up to the dishwasher. Even if I'd realized it was the plane, I imagine I would have thought you'd called it to you..."

Batman fingered a hidden button on his belt. A _click-boop_ sounded in his earpiece in place of the usual _ding_ of acknowledgment, and his frown deepened to abysmal levels. "...He's taken it," he told the other two.

"Ballsy freaking kid," Flash gaped. "I thought Dick and I pulled some capers in our time, but stealing the Batplane..."

"It isan unprecedented event," Alfred arched an eyebrow.

"He's more than taken it," Batman went on, interpreting the coded noises for the two who hadn't been able to hear them. "He's also apparently landed it somewhere and gotten out. So unless I want to strand him wherever he is, we have to wait for him to get back into it before recalling it." Turning on his heel, he began to stride towards the hangar. "We'll take the auxiliary, Flash." The smaller jet lacked the space and the diagnostic equipment of the full-on Batplane, but it would let them catch up quickly.

"...Ballsy," the younger man said under his breath again as he caught up.

_He's ballsy all right_, he thought. Disappointment mingled in his brain with exhaustion, fear, and a hint of pride. _He's ballsy, and when we catch up to him he's also going to be very, very grounded. And if he lodges so much as one argument,_ he swore as he turned down a stone corridor so sharply that his cape snapped in the resulting wind, _not even Dick will be able to talk me into shortening his punishment._

* * *

**Author's Note: For those of you who have been waiting for an answer to the brain teaser on my blog, I'll be posting it today. Happy reading!**


	21. Chapter 21

Damian had started formulating a plan before he was even out of costume. While he believed that his father would keep his word in regards to finding some way for him to help with the mission, he was certain that he would be assigned the safest task that the man could think of. Since he was not interested in watching Grayson and Drake's rescue or the potential baddie battle that might follow from a distance, he would have to take matters into his own hands. The adults could talk in their little committee all night long if they wanted, but he was going to get results in the field in the meantime.

It had been tricky. He'd had to put on an act for Pennyworth, who expected him to eat dinner and prepare for bed without arguing. Knowing better than to seem too complacent about being banished to the sumptuous prison of Wayne Manor in the midst of a crisis, he had kept his face sullen while he ate. After making a vehement comment or two about Batman's threat to ground him, he'd felt safe in heading up the stairs. Once there he had set the alarm on his mobile phone to vibrate around the time that he expected the plane to land after flying itself home from the West Coast and tucked it under his pillow. There was no way anyone else would hear it go off unless they were in the room with him, and a little sleep wouldn't hurt his creativity once he got back out to the force field. Besides, he'd smirked as he lay down, real slumber would take the butler off of his guard for sure.

As it turned out, he'd set himself an impossible task. Try as he might to banish all thoughts of Grayson, he couldn't do it. Telling himself that he didn't care about the man was a tactic that had lost its efficacy many months before, so he didn't waste his time with it. Instead he lay staring at the ceiling and dwelling on a dozen unanswerable questions. Was he hurt? If so, who was responsible, and how could he reach them to make them pay? Was Drake taking good enough care of him? _He'd better be_, his eyes narrowed in the dark. _He'd just better be._

Drake...there was another issue all together. Part of Damian still resented him, not only for all of their past clashes but because it was his Christmas present that had gotten Grayson into this force field mess to begin with. At the same time, he didn't imagine that Tim had wanted to be caught in a massive earthquake – not even Drake was that stupid. Furthermore, he knew outright that he wouldn't have wanted Dick to be injured. That, it seemed, was the one thing that they could always agree on; Grayson was not supposed to get hurt.

With that simple truth ringing in his mind, he had finally drifted off. Vague visions like the one he'd seen in the medical bay of the Batplane stalked his subconscious, forcing him to dodge them as best he could. Just as he was beginning to lose the fight, his pillow shook him awake.

For a moment he'd been unable to remember why he was up at such an ungodly hour. Then everything came crashing back, and his resolve firmed anew._ I'm coming, Dick_, he'd sworn as he swung his legs out of bed silently. _Let's just see who your favorite is after I rescue you._ His father wouldn't even be able to punish him if he pulled this off successfully, he wagered. If he failed, of course, he was completely screwed, but... _But I won't fail. I'll get to him – to both of them – and once I've done that I'll go after whoever's fault the quake was. I'll have this mission wrapped up before the JLA even gets started on it. They won't dare to treat me like a child any more after that._

His goals set, he'd sneaked downstairs. The hard part of his timing was going to be getting back into the cave, grabbing his costume, and snatching the plane, he knew. Pennyworth might have been a civilian, but decades of minding clever, fleet-footed children had turned his ears into precision sneak-detecting instruments. Trying to move past him, especially on a night like this one when his senses were no doubt already on overdrive from his monitoring duties, would be folly. Gambling that he'd have to come upstairs for something at some point, Damian slipped in the shadows of the library and waited.

It didn't take long. Around three o'clock the faintest of whispers sounded in the hall, signifying the opening of the clock. A second later there was a tiny click, followed by soft footsteps. Stealing to the archway that led into the corridor, he watched as the man disappeared towards the kitchen. _It must be time for a pot of tea_, he smirked. _Good. I was getting bored._

With Alfred out of the way, he had been able to snatch his costume from the rack and make his way to the hangar. The plane was automatically refueled every time it landed, so he hadn't needed to worry about that. The much bigger issue was noise, as not even Batman's genius was capable of completely masking the sound of a full-sized jet plane starting underneath the front lawn. While the disturbance was easily explained to those not in the know as being the pipes of an old house, the butler wasn't part of that ignorant group. If anyone would be able to identify the distant rumble as that of the Batplane preparing to take off, it was Alfred.

Still, he had to risk it. With any luck the man would tell himself that the craft's proper owner had summoned it, and wouldn't look any further into things. Grinding his teeth and counting on the power of assumption to watch his back, he had climbed into the cockpit and fired up the engines.

They seemed so much louder than usual, and he cursed them quietly while the hangar's hatch opened. A minute later he was gone, his ears popping as he rose into the night-black sky. He'd been far from safe despite his growing distance from the house – all it would take was the push of a few buttons in the cave to override his control and direct his transport back home – but he tried not to think about it. He'd gotten this far, so surely he would be able to go all the way.

That fragile certainty had held until now, several hours after his mad dash out of Gotham. Upon reaching the force field he had begun throwing every sort of test and tactic that the plane was capable of at the invisible barrier, running back through the things they'd already tried and adding new combinations as he went. He had found that he could, in fact, use magnification to see the ground below better, but it did him no good. Batman had been correct when he'd pointed out that there were seven-hundred-odd square miles of wilderness down there and that no one person could adequately search so much area from a thousand feet overhead. _Useless_, he slumped back in the pilot's chair. _Absolutely fucking useless_.

After a long minute of frustrated seething, an idea popped into his head. Something had to be maintaining the force field, and the odds were good that it was on the inside. What was the point of an impermeable shield if you weren't going to stand behind it, after all? If that was the case, then there was a chance that the barrier would be weaker either directly above the power source or at the furthest distance from it. Batman had said that the dome measured about thirty miles across, and that put him roughly ten miles from the center of it. Re-energized, he straightened and grabbed the yoke. _Okay_, he smirked as he turned the plane around, _the game's back on_.

He saw his target before he was upon it, a tall, periscoping structure jutting up from the jagged earth below. There was no telling from his distance how it had gotten there or who had activated it – it seemed like a safe bet that it hadn't been there before the quake, since it was the sort of eyesore that was generally frowned upon inside national parks – but then he didn't particularly care. In his eyes it was what had to be causing the force field, and therefore the only thing he wanted to know about it was how to destroy it.

Time was running short, and he knew it. All it would take was for Pennyworth to go into his bedroom to wake him for his flight to be discovered, and the morning was further advanced in Gotham than it was here. He didn't have the luxury of trying all of his previous tactics against the field's core, so he jumped straight to the most powerful thing in the Batplane's arsenal; straight artillery.

While they were very rarely used and far from being his father's favorite characteristic of the aircraft, the half-dozen missiles that were kept locked and loaded at all times were a staple of the jet's offensive package. One never knew when it might be necessary to cause an explosion or take out a bridge or a building in order to keep a much greater evil than mere property damage from advancing; this way they were always prepared for those moments. He hadn't been allowed to fire one before, but he'd been instructed in how to do so, and that was enough. Lining up his shot – _let's see this just bounce off _– he bit down nervously on the insides of his cheeks and pulled the trigger.

The missile exploded directly atop the silver pole he'd been aiming for. The resulting racket was painful, but he cheered anyway. _That had to have done the trick, _he thought. _Nothing could take a blast like that at such short range and stay standing_...

"...No," he whispered a second later, his eyes widening as he stared down at the blast zone. A few pieces of shrapnel lay glittering in the morning light, but they were only the remnants of the rocket he'd fired. The tower mere feet – bare inches, perhaps – below the metallic shards was completely untouched, protected by its invisible cloak. "No!" he denied again, kicking the dash. "No, goddamn it, that _had_ to work! Aaaugh!"

Enraged, he doubled his firepower and launched two shots simultaneously. "Damn iiiit!" he shrieked when they, too, did nothing. "This doesn't make any fucking _sense_! _Something_ has to work!" Dropping back into his seat, he squeezed his balled fists tightly against his throbbing temples and began to rock back and forth. "There _has_ to be a way to get down there. There just…there just has to be..."

_Grayson...I'm trying, I swear I'm trying…I'm sorry…_


	22. Chapter 22

It took five minutes and more than a few outraged tears for him to calm down. When he finally straightened, though, there was a determined furrow between his eyes. _I'll go to the edge_, he sniffled to himself. _I've still got three missiles. If the core is strong, maybe the extremities are weak. _They hadn't tried anything like ordnance yesterday, but if lidar, radar, and all that other science-y stuff wasn't the answer then explosions _had_ to be.

Sending a final piercing glare at the small collection of debris he'd created above the silver tower, he turned the plane away. It took only a second to direct it to carefully follow the curve of the force field back to where it had touched earth the previous afternoon. When that was done he curled up in his chair and stared blindly at the screen that was still relaying a magnified view of the earth below. _Stupid camera_, he thought bluntly. _Why can't you just scan the whole area and tell me if there's something person-shaped? Why aren't you capable of that? Father's stupid for not thinking of giving you that capability..._

The video yielded nothing, and before long he was setting down in almost the exact same spot as the day before. His hands hovered over the controls, hesitating. Nothing but grass and a few distant copses of trees lay before him; if this worked and the missile got through, what was the chance that he would start a wildfire? _That_ was something that he definitely didn't have the resources to deal with on his own, and the increased threat it would pose to the missing men was a tough factor to weigh.

_...I have to risk it, _he decided slowly. He might start a fire by launching missiles into the plains, but at least if he did they would be able to access the burning areas in order to stage a rescue. As things were now no such operation was possible. There was still a high chance of more earthquakes occurring, too, especially if someone inside was purposefully triggering them. He simply _had_ to get through, and he only had three chances left in which to do it.

Or one rather large chance, he calculated. It would be safer to launch in the same way he had up above, starting with one missile and increasing to a double-shot if need be, but if he sent all three at once it might be enough power to break through. The potential of a fire was just as present with one strike as with three, so he wasn't ramping up the danger much with his scheme. Taking a deep breath, he tucked his finger in against the trigger. _Work, damn you_, he muttered internally. _Work._

He squeezed, and a faint shiver in the fuselage told him that the command had been obeyed. For a second afterward all he could do was stare out the windshield. The triple explosion broke, then rolled upward towards the cloud-darkened sky before dying out from lack of fuel. Only on the ground, where a few clumps of grass were smoldering, was there any sign of the bombardment that had just occurred. Even if those little puffs of smoke were to grow into a mighty blaze, however, it wouldn't matter. They were on the wrong side of the utterly unmarked force field to have any effect on his brothers, and it was for that reason that he felt like he might start to cry again.

His mouth was set in a twisted line when he exited the plane and trudged forward. _I don't know what else to do_, he berated himself morosely as he stomped out the tiny flames that were licking along through the dirt. He was going to be in enough trouble already, and starting a forest fire outside the barrier would only piss Batman off further. _What else can I do?_ he lamented as he worked. _There's nothing. I'm useless. _

Seeing no more tell-tale plumes rising nearby, he dropped to the earth and leaned against the invisible dome. _I should have just stayed home_. Doing as he'd been told wasn't usually his go-to response to a crisis, but in this case he could see how it would have been the smarter choice. Then he might at least have had a hand in the eventual rescue. Now, though, he was certain to be forced to wait until the duo had been transported to either the Watchtower or the cave in order to see them, and none of the credit for their safety would belong to him. A delay in greeting Grayson, and nothing to hold over Drake; he had gambled this morning, and he had lost badly.

On the heels of that thought came something much worse than any punishment his father might give him. _What rescue? If we can't get in to them...what rescue_? They could be stuck in there forever, or until the aftershocks that were still rumbling through the region killed them. And the baddie...who would do something about them? After seeing the pillar in the middle of the dome, there was little question in Damian's mind that their adversary was down below. Grayson and Drake might have been able to tackle them alone, but they had to know about the person first, and there was no way to get a message to them.

A _thunk_ from overhead made him whirl hopefully. Perhaps it had been a rock thrown against the force field to get his attention; better yet, maybe Drake had walked straight into the thing with his face. _Grayson?!_ His posture drooped when he saw that there was no one there. _Then what...what made that noise?_

His answer hit him in the shoulder a moment later. "Ow!" It hadn't truly hurt, but the surprise of the blow drew the exclamation from his mouth. "What the hell? Oh..." In the grass beside him lay an unmoving robin, its feathers in disarray. Kneeling, he reached out to pick it up. "Ugh..." Its head lay against his fingers at an unnatural angle, and without bringing it close to his face he could see that its beak had cracked. It didn't take a genius to gather that the creature had flown into the barrier at speed and broken its neck, and the symbolism was almost too much for him to bear.

"I get it, I get it," he sniped, setting the little body back down. "I fucked myself by coming here." _And that had better be all that that's supposed to mean, too_, he added silently. He'd always maintained the position that he didn't believe in omens and other esoterica, but it was still creepy that a robin had flapped suicidally into the very barricade that was proving to be his own downfall.

Rising, he turned to face into the plain. Somewhere out there, unreachable and probably hurt, was the man he would do anything to get to. With him was another man whom Damian supposed he felt an obligation to also bring home, if only because his loss would depress his father and Grayson. Besides, there was no one that he could so easily and regularly annoy as Tim, and that was worth something. Lifting one hand, he placed it on the solid wall in front of him. _I tried, _he pleaded_. I tried so hard, but...I can't get through. I can't get through, and I really don't see how anybody can..._

He had to close his eyes for a moment to blink back tears of failure. When he opened them again, his brain stuttered. _What...is that...?_ Surely not. Surely, after all of the time and effort that had been put into their rescue, _surely _that wasn't his quarry on the horizon.

His binoculars appeared from his belt so quickly that he didn't even realize he'd gone for them. The adjustments seemed to take forever, but once he'd made them he gasped. There was what he'd spotted, two upright figures walking together through a vast sea of grass. It was hard to see small details from his distance, but the bright red package on the back of one made it clear that he wasn't looking at a couple of wild animals pushing the envelope on the next stage in evolution.

"Grayson and Drake," he muttered, a slow grin spreading across his lips as his confidence returned. "I _knew_ I'd find your annoying asses this morning!"

* * *

Twenty-odd minutes later he was signaling frantically for the walkers to stop. "Don't come any closer, idiot, you'll run right into it!" he shouted. _You're already limping along with a stick for a crutch_, he winced, glancing down at the bandages encircling Grayson's leg. _Don't make things harder on yourself._

The older pair were clearly happy to see him – even Drake had smiled when they'd first made eye contact – but it was obvious that they didn't know what was going on. They had the wherewithal to appear confused by the fact that they couldn't hear what Robin was saying to them, but even that seemed to be a discovery. To be fair it was new information to the boy as well, but he wasn't surprised by it. If missiles couldn't get through, why would sound be able to?

'Stop!' he signed desperately. 'You can't come closer.'

Dick halted and gave a ferocious pout. Leaning heavily against his stick, he flashed back a question. 'Why not?! And why can't we hear you?'

'There's a...' His fingers paused. _What the hell is the sign for 'force field'?! Shit.._. 'A force field,' he managed finally, resorting to spelling it out for lack of any other option. 'Nothing can get through from either side.'

The men exchanged a glance, and Tim entered the conversation. 'That's impossible, Robin. You _know_ that's impossible.'

'It's _not_ impossible,' he insisted. 'If you don't believe me, walk forward about two steps and check.'

Tim's mouth moved as he said something to Dick, and then he moved up, keeping his unbandaged hand extended in front of him. After a pace and a half he stopped, his jaw dropping. Bringing up his other hand, he traced the inside of the force field. 'What the fuck?!' he signed.

Now Grayson came forward as well and ran the same brief experiment. 'Okay, that's not good.'

'No, it isn't,' Damian gestured back. 'We've been trying to get in since yesterday afternoon, but...' Anger and shame flooded him, and he lowered his gaze to the ground. '...Nothing's working. We can't get in.'

A beat passed as he shoved his emotions down. When he looked up again, Dick was talking to him. 'It's okay, little brother,' his fingers promised below his sympathetic face. 'We'll figure it out somehow.'

'Where's Batman?' Tim broke in.

'At the Watchtower, doing something with a task force to try and break through this stupid forc-' Frustrated with spelling it out, he stopped midway through. 'This stupid wall. I'm calling it that from now on. It's easier.'

'Wall it is,' Dick nodded. 'But Robin...does he know you're here? Batman, I mean?'

'No. Well...probably by now.' His flight had to have been discovered by now. He was amazed he'd gotten away with it as long as he had, and there was no way that Alfred hadn't found him missing yet.

'So you...you _stole_ the Batplane?!' Tim gaped.

'Yeah. I did. So what?' Damian snapped back. 'I had to do something, didn't I? Do you wantto stay inside of a thirty-mile wide slice of nowhere forever? What would your computer do without you, Drake?'

'Relax, guys,' Dick indicated before they could launch into one of their usual verbal battles. 'Fighting won't help. Tell us what you've tried, Robin, and we'll see what we can think of.'

'...We've tried everything. Even missiles. Even Superman. Nothing...nothing works.' He paused. _I can't get you out of there. Here you are, a foot away, and I can't...I can't get to you._ He would never admit as much in front of Tim or anyone else, but at that moment all he wanted in the world was a hug from his big brother. _I can't get to you, but...but maybe you can get to the baddie_. 'We can't get through, but maybe you can.'

'Huh?' a simultaneous query flashed from two sets of hands.

'There's a big metal pole sticking straight up in the middle of the wall,' he explained, his fingers tripping over themselves in his excited urgency. 'The wall is a dome, okay? It curves overhead, and in the very middle is this pole. I just found it this morning, Batman doesn't even know yet. But I think that's where it's coming from. I think that's what's creating it. And I think whoever's making it is in there with you.' Seeing Tim's skeptical look, he rushed on. 'Batman thinks so, too. He said as much last night, that the person is probably under the wall.

'And there's more. He also thinks...well...he thinks that the person making the wall also made the earthquake yesterday, and a bunch more too, all around the world. Grayson...Drake...I...' The power of what he needed to tell them struck him then, and his hands went slack for an instant. What he was about to say would most likely result in the pair turning their obviously battered bodies around and heading back into the wilderness to tackle an unknown opponent with no gear and almost no information. What he was about to say might very well get them killed. _But there's no other way_, he swallowed hard. _We can't get in, they can't get out...the only way left to attack is from the inside. _

'...I think you might be the only people in the world who can make this stop.'


	23. Chapter 23

Dick blinked at his youngest brother for a long second after that silent bombshell. '...You're _sure, _Dami?' he signed finally, the weight of the topic at hand overriding his concern for identity security.

'I'm sure, Dick. We've tried and tried, and...'

The boy's hands stopped, but he knew what was being thought on the other side of the barrier. '...And you feel it in your gut, don't you?' he asked.

'Yes. I do.'

That admission plus Damian's use of his first name a moment earlier solidified Dick's opinion on the matter. "Tim," he spoke aloud. "What are you thinking?"

"...He's not making any of this up, is he?" The question was tinted with dread rather than the usual suspicion, and it was easy for Dick to understand why. How were they supposed to trek back fifteen miles and take on some unknown villain in their sub-par conditions and with no night work gear of any sort?

He didn't know the answer. All he _did _know was that they had to do something. No force field of this nature had ever been seen on Earth before, and to the best of his knowledge it was a first in the wider universe, as well. "He's not. He wouldn't. Not...not something like this. This is big."

Tim sighed. "Damn. I didn't _think_ he'd steal the Batplane for a prank, but...I was hoping, you know?"

"I know." He paused. "...Timmy, I don't think we have any other option but to do this. To try, at least."

"I agree. It's total suicide, but...I agree."

"...Okay." He turned back to Robin, who was clearly growing frustrated at having been cut out of the conversation. 'If you're certain – and it sounds like you are – then we'll take care of it,' he flashed to him with a confidence he was trying hard to feel.

'You're...you're sure?'

'Doesn't seem like there's much choice. If this person can cause earthquakes and force fields, someone has to stop them. We're in the perfect position, so...yay, us.'

'I know, but...well. You look like shit. Are you sure you can handle it?'

There was a bit of sass in the gestures that relayed the boy's inquiry, and Dick almost smiled. _Aw, Dami. It's so cute when you're worried and trying not to show it._ 'If you didn't think we could, little brother, you wouldn't have told us about the problem to begin with,' he winked. 'We'll manage. We've been in tighter spots and come out okay in the end.' A beat passed. '...But Dami?'

'Yeah?'

'Until we get home, do what Batman tells you to do. I know that's probably not what you _want_ to do, especially considering how much trouble you're about to be in with him, but it's important. With Tim and I stuck under here, he'll want to know you're safe; give him that much, okay? Please? You can think of it as a personal favor to me, if that helps.'

'...A personal favor?'

'Yeah.'

'...Fine.'

'Wait a minute,' Tim jumped in. 'Aren't we going to wait for Batman to show up so we can talk to him about all of this? I mean, he's got to be close, right?'

As if on cue, Damian held up one finger. 'Hold on. He's on the radio.'

As they waited, Dick felt a lump growing in his throat. _Bruce...be close. Please be close._ Even if his surrogate father couldn't lend them any aid or advice, just seeing him would be a huge morale boost. They wouldn't be able to touch, at least not unless the JLA task force that had been mentioned had somehow figured out a way to break through, but they could at least talk. _Just a few minutes,_ he swallowed hard. _Let me tell you I love you, and that...that we'll be home soon...let me try and get Dami out of the heap of trouble he got himself into just to find us...please, Bruce, be close._

Tim's expression and shifting feet suggested that he, too, hoped that their mentor would show up soon. Their hopes were dashed, however, when Robin began signaling again.

'He's two and a half hours out.'

'Did you tell him we're here?' Dick asked.

'He didn't give me a chance to. He just growled his orders at me and hung up.'

'Call him back,' Tim insisted.

'I'm not an idiot, Drake. I already tried that. He said he was busy and that I was to do as he'd told me until he got here, and then he hung up again.'

"Two and a half hours..." He thought hard. They'd woken well before daybreak, both still exhausted but also possessing raging thirsts. What little water was left over from the night before had done almost nothing to refresh their sleep-parched throats, so they had packed up with painful slowness and gone in search of refills. Before they'd gotten more than a hundred yards it had become clear that Dick was unable to carry his bag, even with the aid of the stick-cane his brother cut from a downed tree for him. They'd pared their supplies as best they could, consolidating most of their food into one canister and abandoning a sleeping bag so that he could tote a smaller day-pack-sized load, but the task had eaten precious minutes from their search for hydration.

To make matters worse, they'd soon found that the small pond they'd gotten water from the day before had vanished. They had stumbled through the collapsed forest for half an hour before concluding that it was truly gone, and the added exertion hadn't helped their arid mouths any. It was at that point that they had made the extreme decision to strike out for the mosquito-ridden creek of the first day. Going ten miles across open, heat-baked grassland when they were already dry was risky, but they knew that there was no water in the hills behind them and going on a lengthy foot search was asking for trouble.

Now both of their hydration stations were closed off to them, and there was more work to do than ever. 'We need water,' he indicated. 'Did you see any inside of the force field as you were flying in?'

Damian's brow crinkled above his mask. '...No.'

"Shit," Tim muttered.

"We're just going to have to blaze our own path, then," Dick grimaced. As potentially dangerous as that prospect was, it couldn't hold a candle to the risks of dehydration. "Pull the map out, Timmy. Let's take a look at what we've got to work with." 'Dami,' he turned back to the child, 'we're going to need your help. Do you think you can show us where you saw that tower?'

'Yeah. I can do that.'

'Why can't you just scout for water for us?' the middle male queried. 'It won't take you nearly the time it will us.'

'Batman's probably already overridden the controls,' came back. 'You know he can tell if there's anyone in there long-distance. The second I set foot inside it's probably going to seal itself shut and fly me back to Gotham.'

'Where he'll be stuck for the rest of his natural life,' Dick agreed. 'Still...I'm sorry, little brother, but I have to ask you to try. We can't afford to wander around out here looking for water. We're already dry, and the hot part of the day hasn't even started.'

The boy's mouth tightened. '...Fine. I'll point out the tower first, just in case he locks me in there and won't listen again when I try to tell him what's going on.'

"Here," Tim said as he produced the guidebook and its fold-out map from the bottom of his pack. "...Should I hold it up against the force field, or what?"

"Might as well. Better too close to him than too far away. He can back up, but he can't come closer."

"Right." After pointing out where they were at the moment, Tim pressed the paper against the invisible wall. 'Okay, Robin,' he signed. 'Which way do we need to go?'

Damian peered at the cartograph for a minute. His mien grew more and more confused as the seconds ticked by, and Dick began to wonder if something was wrong. Just as he was about to inquire, the child's gaze rose to meet his.

'Where was you were supposed to hike to, again?'

'Asperity Falls.'

'...That's weird.'

'_What's_ weird?' Tim frowned.

'That's...that's right in the area where I saw the tower. Fifteen miles is half of thirty, and fifteen miles straight in the direction I came from...it's Asperity Falls more or less, at least according to your map.'

"Oh, holy fuck." Tim's eyes were wide as he turned the book around to look at it. "...He's right."

"Well, I guess we'll make it to the end of the trail after all, Timmy," Dick deadpanned.

"So much for coming down out of the mountains."

"Yeah," he laughed at the irony. "No kidding."

'What are you _saying_?!' Damian flailed.

'Sorry, little brother. We're just being complainers, that's all,' he answered. 'You're certain it's the falls? That's a long walk otherwise.'

'Of course I'm certain. What, do you think I'm going to mislead you when the whole world could be at stake?!'

_The...the whole world? What?_ 'The whole world?'

'Weren't you listening...looking...ugh, _whatever_...earlier? There have been quakes all over the place since the start of the year with the same disruptions afterward as this one had. No force fields, but...still the same otherwise. If the person who's doing this can make a level nine earthquake in the middle of the North American plate, what's to keep them from tearing the whole _world_ apart?'

Wrapped up in the more immediate concerns of finding water, locating the source of the force field, and capturing whoever was responsible for it, Dick had almost managed to forget about the temblors. "God, Timmy, I hadn't even thought about it in the big-picture way," he confessed.

"Me, either. Now that he mentions it, though, it doesn't feel so impossible."

"I'm afraid I have to agree with you."

'Stop cutting me out, damn it!'

'Sorry!' he apologized. 'Sorry, little brother. We're not trying to cut you out, it's just...'

The ground rolled beneath them again, forcing him to stop signing in order to support himself on the barricade. It was only a small, short shake, but it rammed home the idea that they might very well be running out of time. When it had stopped, all three exchanged knowing glances. '...You're not going to be able to wait for Batman, are you?' Damian ventured.

In the interest of not making the child feel unwelcome again, Dick kept his mouth shut and let his hands do the talking. 'Timmy?'

'I...I don't think we dare wait,' he paled. 'I'd prefer to, but with no water and now a potentially global threat that we have to go back over the mountains to get to...two hours could save a lot of lives, you know? Besides, if they came up with a way to get in Robin knows where we're going. They can find us along the way.'

'Yeah...okay.' Resigning himself, Dick leaned his forehead against the barrier. '...Dami?' There was no reply, but he could read the quickly-quashed tremble in the child's chin. 'I know, little brother,' he soothed. 'I know. But listen; I need you to do two things for me now, okay? One, I need you to try and find us some water. Two...I need you to take care of Bruce until we get back. I know I sort of said that before, but now it's more than just doing what he tells you. Don't let him go too crazy over all of this stuff, okay? Please?'

'...A crazy Batman is in no one's favor,' was returned finally. 'I'll do my best. And I'll find you water, even if I have to sabotage the plane to do it.'

Dick's hand went out from sheer force of habit, moving as if to ruffle Damian's hair in appreciation. Instead his fingers bounced into the force field, and a spike of anger went through him. _Screw this,_ he glared. _We're taking this thing out, one way or the other. Nothing keeps me from my baby brother, especially not when he looks about ready to freaking cry._ 'That's the spirit,' he said as with as much pep as he could manage. 'If you end up having to mess with the plane, though...tell him I said to do it. You're in enough trouble.' As unhappy as he was that Damian had probably worried Bruce half to death by taking off, he didn't want to see the poor kid banned from the streets for the rest of his adolescence. He'd just been trying to help, after all, even if it had been in a stubborn and insensitive way.

'He won't believe me.'

'Maybe not. But when I get home-' _If I get home,_ he held back, '-and back up your story, then what?'

'Then...then I guess everything will be okay. But you'd _better_ come home and do it, because he's never going to believe me otherwise.'

Dick stared at the characteristic scowl on Damian's face in an effort to make sure he had all of its particulars down pat. There was no guarantee that the boy would be able to get Batman, who was no doubt in a truly royal rage, to listen, or that he would be able to sabotage the Batplane from inside in order to bend it to his will. Furthermore, there was every chance in the world that he himself wouldn't make it home from this wholly unexpected mission. Knowing that this might be the last minute he had to spend with the youth, he ached to make it as meaningful as possible.

Somehow, he managed to crouch down so that he was looking up at him. 'I'll back you up,' he promised. 'And so will Timmy. But in the meantime...' He searched for something simple but poignant, the sort of thing that his wayward little brother might be able to use to guide himself along the right path in the event that he wasn't there to help him find his way. '...Do good things, Dami,' he signed slowly. 'Just...do good things, and remember that I love you. All right?'

The child turned his head away, but his hands stayed up. '...I will, Grayson. I...I will.'


	24. Chapter 24

Neither Dick nor Tim spoke as they walked away from the boundary set by the force field a half-hour later. They had both been surprised when Damian had returned from his mission and reported no difficulties in directing the plane as he wished. All Dick could figure was that Batman wanted the aircraft for his own devices once he arrived and was trusting that Robin wouldn't leave the area in the meantime. It was a safe enough bet; the boy had disobeyed him in order to get here, after all, and he wasn't the type to willingly slink home in defeat.

Fortunately, though, he _was _the type to take care of business. He had found them water a mile and a half to the northeast, and it was there that they were headed now. They thought they could make it despite the increasing temperature, which seemed unaffected by the thick, steadily darkening clouds high above. Hobbling along on his makeshift crutch, Dick tried not to think about the look of guilt that had wreathed his littlest brother's face just before they'd turned away. It was a pointless endeavor, however, and he gave in with a sigh. _It's not your fault, Dami,_ he thought as he fixed his eyes to the horizon and pressed forward. _If we don't come back...please, please don't think that it's your fault._

"What's up?" Tim asked, his voice scratching in his throat.

"Thinking about Damian." They _had_ to make it through this, both of them; otherwise, he was certain, the boy would do exactly what his father had done decades before and turn his feelings of culpability inward to fester.

"Yeah...me, too."

The other man's pensive tone caught his attention and made his cherished hope that some sort of an understanding between his brothers might come about flare. "Really?!"

"Uh-huh. But I'll tell you later, okay? Like, when we have water."

"...Complicated?"

"Yeah. Complicated."

"Okay. Limp on, then."

It wasn't yet noon, but the light bled out of the air the closer they drew to their destination. The world took on a yellowish tinge, and Dick could only guess as to whether it was the result of the storm brewing high above them or a side effect of worsening dehydration. There was little he could do about it either way, so he redoubled his efforts and pushed past the pain that erupted in his leg with each step he took.

"Oh, wow," Tim, who was walking a little ahead, muttered a short while later. "Dick...look at this."

He drew up beside him and looked down. The vertical plain of earth that had been exposed when the grassland had dropped during the quake met his eyes first. The dirt wall plunged into a sizable lake of indeterminate depth, which went on for a ways before abruptly ending. It was the water body's strange terminus in mid-air that had caught his brother's attention, Dick was sure, since it wasn't every day that they saw an invisible dam holding back what had to be several tens of millions of gallons of water. He could only imagine what it must look like from the other side of the barrier, but even from here he was impressed.

"That's incredible," he breathed. "It's like it's floating."

"There must have been a pretty decent-sized river that emptied out right around here. Hold on..." Shrugging off his pack and retrieving his guide book, Tim unfolded the map. "Yeah, look. This river, right here..."

"Asperity River?" Dick hunched in order to see.

"Yeah. Original name, right? Anyway...the trail crosses it past the point where we turned around. It says there's a bridge there, so it must be large. Bigger than Mosquito Creek, at least."

"It _was_ large. If no water's getting out, none's getting in, either," he pointed out. "Unless the river starts inside the force field, it should be just about drained out."

Tim paled. "Um...what if it _does_ start inside the force field?"

"...What do you mean?"

"Well...if it's fed from an underground aquifer or something...you know, like a really big one...and it's still flowing..."

"There's no _way_ this thing's going to fill up, Timmy," Dick cut him off. "Think about how much water that would take." He sounded confident, but his reassurances were intended to soothe his own fear as much as that of his brother's. _I don't think I can swim for long with my leg like it is,_ he determined. _If this thing fills up...no. It won't. It can't._

"It would take a lot, but...not an impossible amount. Not over, say, several days, or a week. Besides, even if it didn't fill to the top it could make getting back to the Falls hell."

_...Ugh._ "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? For now..." He cast a covetous gaze over the liquid below, forgetting its potential lethality in favor of focusing on its life-giving properties. "...I'm freaking thirsty."

"Me, too. The question is, how do we get down to it?"

"Hmm..." The surface of the lake was at least ten feet below them, and the slope in between was much too sheer to be scaled. "...Jump in?"

"As much as I want a bath, how would we get back out?"

"Point taken. Ah..."

"I know!" Tim held up one finger as he turned back to his bag. "I kept the rope we used when we were climbing down yesterday. The longer section should be enough to let us lower our water bottles and bring them back mostly full."

Dick grinned. "There goes my genius little brother, saving the day," he crowed.

"Only so long as the cord holds. It wasn't so good at that the last time we used it."

"Sure, but no bottle of water is going to weigh as much as me."

"True. See if you can find a rock that will fit through the opening, would you? If it's not weighted it will just float, and that would be useless."

After a few false starts involving stones that were just a bit too large or awkwardly shaped, they carefully lowered the first vessel over the edge. "C'mon, little rope," Dick encouraged from where he'd laid down beside Tim to watch the proceedings. The plastic container hit the water and sank down into it, sending up a series of _glugs_ and bubbles. "Think there are any fish in there?" he asked, trying to distract them both from the tension of waiting to see if their line would hold once they started hauling it upward.

"If there is, it's probably some monster thing that's eyeballing my water bottle for lunch."

"...Lunch..." They had skipped breakfast, having nothing left that didn't require water to make, and the mention of food now reminded him that his stomach was empty. "We should eat."

"I agree. But first..."

Both held their breaths as the brimming canteen rose. If the cord broke now, it would be a disaster; they would not only still have nothing to drink, but the bottle would sink irretrievably to the bottom and leave them with only half of their current carrying capacity. Inch by inch the droplet-speckled container came closer. Straining over the edge, Tim wrapped one finger through the loop holding the lid on and yanked the precious fluid to safety.

"Yesss!" Dick hissed in triumph.

Now a scramble began. Between their exertions and their injuries both men were in desperate need of rehydration, and once they had their cure they rushed to purify it. Only the thought of how much more difficult their mission would be if they came down with a water-borne illness kept them from skipping that crucial step altogether, but to their relief the little UV-light wand worked its magic fast. Tim poured half of the supply into his brother's bottle, and for a minute after their only sounds were needy swallows and gasps of relief.

"...I don't think I could have gone much longer without that," Dick sighed when the worst of the dust had been cut from his mouth.

"Me either. Jesus..." Lowering himself carefully backwards onto the grass, the younger man blew out a long puff of air. "On the note of dehyrdration...I have an idea, I think, but..."

"What is it?"

"Well...it might work really well, or it might screw us out of time."

"Okay. So what is it?"

"It's just...that was scary, today. Being out here without water, I mean. I don't want to do that again. But if this lake is being made by the river, then the river must flow into it at some point. What if...what if we tried following the river upstream instead of going all the way back around on the trail that already almost killed us?"

Dick considered the proposal. There were several cons that he could enumerate right off the bat. They might get halfway to their destination and find the route impassable, forcing them to go around or turn back; they might be caught in a flash flood if an aftershock loosened a logjam or some other dam upstream; they might find it difficult to camp comfortably on the presumably rocky bank. There were many reasons for him to argue against the plan, and all of them were legitimate concerns.

On the other hand, the last thing he wanted to do was tackle the steep hillsides that had done their part to tear his skin to shreds the day before. If the river didn't have any other vertical drops between here and the falls they were targeting, the climb would be a hundred times easier. Plus, as Tim had pointed out they would be near water, and while the river could very well kill them it was also something that they required in order to survive. A renewed attack on the mountain trail might take days, and so far as they knew there were now no oases along the way; in the worst case scenario, death by flash flood would be much faster than death by dehydration.

Dick examined his rough crutch and tried to picture himself climbing a forty-five degree slope with it. Time and time again he saw himself falling, tumbling, scraping, screaming, and crashing. _Yeah...that's not_ _going to work,_ he grimaced. "I think it sounds way better than going back the way we came," he opined eventually. "Does the map show any falls before the big ones?"

"No. And I think that the elevation change is way less ridiculous, too. The actual falls are something like six or seven hundred feet below the hill we were on when...when the quake hit."

"I'm up for anything that will save us unnecessary climbing. Let's do it."

"You're sure? I don't know what we're going to find. I mean, we might get to the river and find out it's just a water-filled gorge."

"Sure, we might. And if we do we'll still have the option to turn around and go the hard way. But if it _is _passable...look, I don't want to scare you, little brother, but I really don't think I can do those hills again. My leg's already stiff as a board, and everything we've done today has been flat. I think its going to lock up completely the second I introduce it to a slope. If we can make it up the river, I stand a heck of a lot better chance of not slowing you down too much. I don't want to have to tell you to go ahead of me, you know?"

"I wouldn't do it," Tim swore, sitting up with a hard look on his face. "Absolutely not, Dick. We're _not_ splitting up out here. I don't care if I have to carry you, we're not splitting up."

"I don't want to split up either," he reached over the grip his shoulder. "But if this is really as big as Dami said, then it's not just you and I in danger. It could be the whole world, and as little as I like the idea of splitting up I want the planet to be shaken into space dust even less."

"...Then I guess we _have_ to follow the river, because I am _not_ leaving you behind."

"Okay. The river it is. Hey," he smiled, "we've got water _and_ a plan of action now. Look at us go, huh?"

"Heh. Yeah. Go us," came back sarcastically.

"Aw, c'mon. We're doing way better than we were an hour ago." _Cheer up, Timmy. We're still together, we know where we're going next, and we're not even dying of thirst anymore. Things could be much, much worse. _"Speaking of an hour ago," he leaned back gingerly on his hands, "you never told me what got you thinking about Damian."

"Oh...right. Damian. Well..." He trailed off, scratching the back of his head. "He just...he caught my eye right after you turned away. He...signed something to me. I guess _that's _what I've been thinking about."

"Really? What did he say?" _Please tell me it wasn't mean. Although he __did__ tell you how to keep from bashing your face on the force field when you didn't believe him at first, so maybe he actually said something less than awful to you._ _A guy can hope, at least_.

"He said...it's weird, but he told me to make sure I don't die."

"Aaaww!" _Good boy, Dami._

"He said it would make you and Bruce upset if I did-"

"Obviously."

"-but...I dunno, Dick, but I kind of felt like it might make _him_ a little upset, too, and not just because you and Bruce would be out of it. I know it must have been a side effect of the dehydration or something, because there's no _way_ he would give a shit if I didn't come back from this, but..."

"Buuuut?" he pressed when Tim trailed off.

"But it was kind of nice thinking that maybe, just _maybe_, he doesn't hate every single atom of my being. Even if I'm wrong – and I've got to be, I know it – it was still a nice feeling."

He could have squealed. "You're not wrong, Tim," he insisted. "Deep down, I know he cares about you. He might not like to admit it, not even to himself, but you're his brother just as much as I am. It's just that it tends to take Dami a long time to recognize the good in other people, that's all. When you start out life being told to view everyone as your enemy, that's easy to do. You don't _want_ to see the good in your enemy, because if you do it makes it much harder to validate attacking them. Maybe," his lips spread so broadly that they felt as if they might crack, "he's finally letting himself acknowledge some of the good in you. Maybe he's finally starting to see you as something other than an opponent."

"To be honest, I'll be happy if he just stops being such a little jerk all the time." Tim gave a snort. "Think I can rack up some brownie points towards that end if I really _do_ end up carrying you up the river?"

"I'll tell you what," Dick chuckled. "In the interest of brotherly love, I'll tell him you did even if you don't have to. Sound good?"

"Yes, yes it does."

"Cool. Now...let's see about some lunch, huh?"

"I'm game. You think Alfred will let us slide if we break into his surprise a day early?"

"How can he be mad if we tell him we used it as fuel for world-saving? Let's see what we've earned."

"Awesome."

Despite the global threat they had to deal with, the trek they had to make in order to do so, and the ordeal that they had already gone through just to get to this point, Dick found himself humming happily as they set up their meal. _Fresh water, lunch by an insane, impossible lake, a new game plan, breakthroughs on the Tim versus Dami front, and..._ His thoughts halted as he leaned forward to watch his brother pry the cardboard away from their hidden treat. ..._And Alfred's finest chocolate chip cookies,_ he finished his enumeration as Tim cheered. _With all of those things working in our favor, we've got nothing to complain about._


	25. Chapter 25

They stopped for the night at the junction of the Asperity River and the lake. They had skirted the reservoir all afternoon, and to Tim's relief it hadn't appeared to be rising terribly fast. It wasn't drowning he feared – his brother had been right, he knew, when he'd pointed out the huge amount of liquid it would take to fill the area beneath the force field – but rather added difficulty. They were handicapped as it was, and the last thing they needed was to find themselves stranded on a quaking mountaintop and surrounded by water.

Leaving Dick near the edge with their stove and the makings of dinner, he retreated inland to set up the tent. There had been no wind all day, and he suspected that there wasn't likely to be any due to the barricade overhead, but he staked the sides down anyway. _The way our luck's going, there'll be a tornado tonight,_ he rolled his eyes as he worked. _...Maybe I shouldn't think that too loud,_ he added a minute later when the spike he was pounding in with a rock came right back up in his hand.

A sharp bark drew his attention. Thinking that it might have been a cry of pain from his brother, he craned his head back over his shoulder. The older man seemed to be stirring the pot without difficulties, though, and Tim frowned. _Then what...?_

The noise repeated itself, and this time his ears were able to pinpoint the source. "Whoa...um, hi."

The prairie dog that had appeared above the ground a few feet away watched him for a long moment. Then it barked a third time and dropped back down into its hole. _...Okay, then_. It occurred to him that he might have placed the tent over one of the creature's exits from its underground labyrinth, and he paused. He could pull out all of the stakes, lift the tent, and check, he supposed, but after a moment's deliberation he decided against it. Even with as tired and sore as he was, he couldn't imagine himself not seeing an opening the size of his fist while he was rolling everything out; the animal must have just been assessing the threat he posed to the colony, that's all.

Shaking his head at himself, he turned back to his task. The final bit of aluminum went into the earth easily, and he straightened with a groan. Now that they were down to one ground pad and one sleeping bag between them, it was easy to lay out their bedding from a standing position in the doorway. The way they were abandoning gear and huddling together at night, they might have saved on weight and just bought a one-man tent, he grimaced. It was too late for that now, of course, so all he could do was hope that they wouldn't end up needing the extra material to make a hang-glider or something else equally ridiculous.

It was as he was bending forward to put his pack inside where it would be safe from the gnawing teeth of the prairie dog that another aftershock struck. There was no warning tremor, just a solid roll of the earth that threw him forward mercilessly. He landed atop the sleeping platform he had just made, but it did little to reduce the pain that flared when his knees took his weight. "Aaah!" he screamed as he felt the fresh scabs that capped the joints break open. "Shit!" _Can't bleed on the bed,_ he lectured himself, scrabbling forward. _Can't bleed on the bed..._

He fell twice more before he managed to get out of the tent. As soon as he was clear of the structure, the focus of his worry shifted. _Dick. Dick's by the lake._ The drop-off that they had overcome with their cord earlier in the day had slowly tapered off until it was a bare two feet high, but he still didn't want his brother tumbling over it. If his leg was too stiff to let him hike up a hill then it was definitely too locked up for swimming, and the other man didn't need any more injuries besides that.

Before he could begin trying to crawl towards where he'd left him, the worst of the motion ceased. There was still a faint shivering going on beneath his feet as he stood shakily, but that was better than the punches the planet had been throwing. Scanning the empty shoreline, Tim felt a too-familiar hand coil itself in his guts. "Dick!" he shouted.

Dick's head popped up as if he'd seen the prairie dog, too, and was trying to imitate it. "Yo!" he hollered back. "You okay?"

"Yeah! You?" His muscles unclenched. _You __look__ safe. Good…_

"Um...well, I'm making something else for dinner now, but I'm okay other than that."

If a batch of food was the only casualty, Tim thought he could live with it. Waving to show that he'd gotten the message, he glanced back to check on the tent. "Ah, hell." What had been a sleek dome was now a half-collapsed mess of rip-stop material and lightweight supports, at least one of which appeared to be broken. "...Screw it. I'll come back." Dick had said he was fine, but he wanted to see for himself. Besides, there were warm trails running down his shins again, and he didn't want to drip around camp any more than necessary.

He took only a single step before he heard another low bark. If it had sounded like the previous ones he would have ignored it, but there was a pathetic tone to the cry that pulled him around with a moan of denial. "What _now_? Oh..." His brow furrowed. _...Where did the prairie dog burrow go?_

As he studied an odd zig-zagging depression in the dirt not far away, he realized what had happened. While he had no idea how the colony had survived the initial temblor and all of the rumblings since, it was clear that this particular tunnel had finally given out and collapsed in on itself. Another, fainter bark called out, and he sighed in resignation. Rescuing wild animals wasn't part of his job description, but he couldn't just stand by and let the thing suffocate under his feet.

"Hold on," he muttered as he maneuvered himself down into the dirt. Digging at the loose soil where the prairie dog had shown itself a short while before, he uncovered the remnants of the subterranean passageway. After a minute his fingers brushed something warm and solid. It kicked, and he latched onto it as gently as possible so that he could pull it out. "Don't bite me," he ordered as the little creature slid into the open air. Its fur was full of dust, but it shook it off easily and gave its face a swift cleaning. Then it looked at him for another long second, its nose twitching and its sides heaving. "Uh...I guess you can go now, if you want," he shrugged at it. "I mean, I don't exactly need a pet or anything."

The dog gave a little sneeze, flicked one ear, and then took off into the grass.

_I'm getting as bad as Dick is about animals,_ Tim determined as he stood up once more. _Talking to prairie dogs like they're people...jesus, maybe I hit my head in that last one..._

"Everything okay?" his brother looked up as he approached.

"Yeah. Sorry, I had to..." He hesitated, reflected once more that he must be losing his sanity, and finally continued. "I had to rescue a prairie dog."

"A prairie dog was in trouble?"

"Yeah," he verified as he sat down beside him. "Its burrow collapsed on top of it. It started yelping, and...well, I couldn't just walk away. I mean, _it _didn't cause the earthquake."

"Sure." An arm stretched across his back and tugged him in. "I'm glad you're not hurt, Timmy," Dick whispered just above his ear. "...And I'm glad you're such a good person, too."

He blushed, embarrassed. "It was just a rat-thing. It's no big deal."

"Sure it is. Lots of people would have just left the little guy like that, but you made a special effort to help. That says a lot about who you are, little brother; don't be ashamed of it. I know I'm not."

"Well...thanks," he murmured. The heat in his cheeks increased at the compliment, and he had to turn his head away to make it go down. _It was what you would have done, Dick,_ he thought. _So...I'm glad I did it. People can do a hell of a lot worse than to imitate you, that's for sure. _The world would be a much better place, in his opinion, if more people followed his big brother's example. The problem was getting them to realize as much.

Their meal was ready before another shaking episode could knock it over like the first batch. With as many calories as they were burning and as far as they had to go it wasn't good that they'd lost an entire evening's worth of food to the dirt, but there wasn't much they could do about it. Tim knew that _he_ certainly didn't want to try and scrape the stew out of the grass in order to eat it. If worst came to worst they would have to take time to scrounge for wild sustenance, but for now they still had rations – and good ones, at that, he smiled as the bag of cookies made an appearance.

They had stopped earlier tonight than the evening before, and as a result the sun was just beginning to set as they were wrapping up dinner. Dick insisted on cleaning Tim's knees out for him again, joking as he did that it was much easier this time. When that was done, they tossed what they could of the spilled stew into the water, where it was less likely to draw animals of the tooth-and-claw variety. Then they picked up their cooled stove and made their way to the tent.

It was obvious that Dick was beginning to flag from the way he clung to Tim's shoulder the entire way, and the younger man was careful to give him a hand in lowering himself to the ground once they'd reached their destination. "Bedtime?" he urged. _You've got rings under your eyes. I __know__ you're tired._

"Don't you think we ought to fix this thing first?" a thumb was jerked towards the crumpled shelter.

"I can do it, I was just putting it off." To prove his point, he began to fiddle with it.

"Here, let me help-"

"No," he waved him back down. "You rest. You cooked two dinners without my help, the least I can do is set the tent up twice. It's not a big deal."

"...Okay, but-"

"I'll let you know if I need help, I promise." _Rest, you dork, _a tiny, affectionate smile crossed his lips. _Just relax._

As he worked it occurred to him that he should have checked the nasty wound in his brother's leg again after dinner. _I'll do it first thing in the morning,_ he swore as he used a bit of duct tape to fix the broken pole. Uncovering the injury near the tent might increase the smell of blood in the area, and he didn't want to risk that, especially after he'd probably left traces of the substance on their bedding. _I'll look at it in the morning._

"...Hey, it's raining," Dick commented just as Tim was finishing up the repairs.

"What?!" _Oh, no. Not rain. That's the last thing we need..._ He felt no drops on his arms or head, though, and frowned. What on earth was Dick talking about?

"Look up," a bit of advice came as the older man seemed to read his confusion. "It's raining out there, but not in here. Weird, huh?"

"Oh, hey..." Abandoning what little was left of his project – they were in trouble anyway if a strong enough wind came up for them to really _need_ the last two stakes to be seated – he sat down at his hiking partner's side. High above them, the previously clear dome was beginning to develop splatters and streams as the falling rain hit it and succumbed to gravity. It reminded Tim of afternoons spent watching the rain land on the sunroof as Alfred drove him home from school. This was infinitely prettier, though, and it became even more so as the hidden sun grew closer to the horizon and turned the undersides of the clouds into a painting. Every blink unveiled a different hue, a new whorl in the hovering banks of moisture, or a fresh river rushing down to the ground. "...Hey, Dick?"

"Uh huh?"

"This is the best rainstorm I've ever been under."

"They're not nearly as unpleasant when you don't get wet from them, right?"

"Exactly." There was much more to the happy swelling in his chest than just that, but he sensed that he didn't need to say it out loud for it to be understood. Everything had gone wrong on this trip, but the show being put on above them almost made it all worth it.

Eventually it got too dark for them to see what was going on. They crawled inside, and while Dick made himself as comfortable as he could on the narrow pallet Tim busied himself with digging out their headlamps. "Here," he tucked them both into the small mesh basket suspended from the crown of the tent. "With all that cloud cover it's going to be pitch-black out there. If we need to get up for something, we'll want these."

"Gooooood thinking," a complimentary yawn sounded. "Now c'mere."

He curled against him without complaint and let the sleeping bag be pulled up to his chin. They had left their small camp pillows laying with the second sleeping bag as part of their effort that morning to save space and weight, but Dick's arm served as a decent enough substitute. As soon as Tim's head hit it, his eyes slipped closed. "...Night..." he whispered, and was out.

Hours later he snapped awake and found himself staring up at the roof of the tent, which in the dark was just as invisible as the barrier locking them away from the rest of the world. A bark sounded, and for a moment he thought he was dreaming about the events of the previous day. _Did you get stuck __again__, you silly prairie dog?_ he groaned.

"Tim!" a harried hiss made him start.

"Huh?!" Groping over, he found Dick's spot empty. "What...Dick?"

"Timmy, get up and get the bear spray out!"

"_Huh?!_" He was dreaming, he had to be. _Bear spray?_ "What do you need...?" he asked blearily as his hands fumbling towards his pack.

Another bark rang out, this time carrying a strong note of warning. Somewhere in the distance there was an answer. _Oh, good. He's not the only one left,_ he mused in satisfaction. _Wait...__bear spray__?! Oh, god… _"Dick?!"

"_Get the spray, Tim, now_!"

That was when he heard it, a low _chuff_ that was far too throaty to have been made by any prairie dog. Panic seized him, and he rolled upward in order to scrabble through his supplies faster. A second huff reached his ears, and his blood ran cold. _Where is it, where is it, where __is__ it?!_

"Tim, c'mon!"

"I'm _trying_!" He was trying, but he couldn't find it. He couldn't find it, and judging from the sound of things the bear was getting closer.

"Tim!"

He couldn't find it. He couldn't find it, and he let out a disbelieving cry. After all of that, everything they'd gone to, everything they had planned to put themselves through still, they were going to die as a bruin's midnight snack. It was unbelievable, entirely unbelievable. Shoving his arms deeper into the body of the bag, he flailed through his clothes. _Where is it__?!_

"Tiiiim!"

* * *

**Author's Note: I put a picture of a prairie dog up on my blog this morning, because I think we all need something cute to take our minds off of the bear in camp. Happy reading!**


	26. Chapter 26

His hand closed around a sleek metal cylinder just as his name died out. _Got it!_ Ripping his arm clear of his luggage, he bolted for the door. It was open, and he erupted into the night. Yanking the pin, he pointed the nozzle at the bundle of fur barreling towards him and pulled the trigger.

_It's not working,_ a terror-laden certainty echoed in his head as the creature kept on coming forward. _It's not working! _Something knocked into his shoulder – it was impossible to tell if it was the bear or his brother, everything was too close together now – and sent him stumbling sideways. He stayed on his feet, but he was now in the wrong position to keep up his attack. "Dick!"

Only the light beaming out from the other man's forehead allowed him to see what was going on. Pushed out of the action momentarily, he tried to process the mad scene before him. The bear had slid to a halt only inches from the tent as the pepper spray started to take effect. It was still making awful popping and huffing sounds, though, and there was no question that it might resume its assault at any second. On the other side of the creature stood Dick, still just as battered as when they'd gone to bed but now wearing Nightwing's signature 'bring it' grin. His crutch sat lightly in his hands, ready for action, and Tim suddenly knew what was about to happen.

The length of wood slashed across the bear's face, sending a splatter of blood into the dirt. A roar of protest rang out, overwhelming the ongoing prairie-dog chatter behind them. The noise was terrible, loud enough at close quarters to make their eardrums ache and so laden with certain death that Tim would have sworn he felt some primordial part of his brain shrivel up in horror.

Dick didn't falter, however. Instead he struck again, and then a third time. His makeshift staff broke, a short piece of the end flying off into the night as he came around for a fourth blow. Finally his adversary began to retreat, pawing at its own face as it gave another dinning bellow. Not one to be outdone by the instigator of an unprovoked attack, Dick screamed right back. He couldn't produce the same decibel level as the bruin, of course, but there was a warning in his tone that made even the yipping rodent chorus pause for a moment.

_Yeah,_ an unbidden smirk slipped onto Tim's face. _That's right. _ _We might be beaten up, stuck in the middle of nowhere, and on a suicide mission, but that doesn't mean we're easy pickings._ Spurred on by his brother's defense, he let out an answering yell and straightened his arm in front of himself once more. The bear fell back another pace, putting itself at risk of a second spraying. He obliged it, aiming straight for the beady eyes and already-dripping nose that might have been pathetic were it not for the crushing, toothed jaw below. _Take that!_

It was enough; more than enough, perhaps. Turning tail, the predator fled into the darkness, leaving a trail of snot, blood, and wounded cries in its wake. Their light, which suddenly seemed very feeble for its inability to flood the entire plain with brightness, followed the animal as far as possible. When it seemed that the bear had truly gone, the beam turned onto him. "Timmy...are you okay?"

"Yeah!" he responded eagerly, still high on adrenalin. "Yeah, I'm..." All of the warning systems that had been silenced by pure survival instinct came back on at the same time, and he trailed off. _That...that was...bear...__jesus__..._ "Oh, holy _shit_, Dick," he whispered, his voice now shaking. "I mean...that...we...holy _shit_." _We just fought a bear, and we didn't die. We didn't die. We didn't die!_

"Yeah..." The other man's words were no steadier than his own had been, a fact for which Tim was distantly grateful. "'Holy shit' about...about sums it up. But, um..." Dick scrubbed his hand across his mouth as if he was trying to unknot his lips. "You're...how are you?"

"Uhhh..." He managed to push his trembling aside long enough to run a quick assessment of his well-being. "I'm lucky I don't need to change my pants," he replied, "and I've never been more happy that we live in the twenty-first century, where we have chemistry to back up our sticks, but other than that I'm...I'm okay?" He hadn't meant the last part as a question, but once it had come out as one he realized that it was apt. "...I need to sit down."

"Ditto. Not here, though. The spray…"

"Yeah." The stuff was lingering exactly the way it was supposed to, and while that might be good to keep the bear away it was starting to make his eyes tingle unpleasantly. "Around back?"

"Around back."

They stumbled around the tent, then turned back-to-back, linked arms, and lowered themselves to the dirt. Tim was still clutching the pepper spray, and he had seen Dick's fingers gripping the stick as they'd walked, but their weapons were little comfort now that they couldn't see the enemy. Leaning against his brother, he could feel both of their hearts racing as their bodies processed the shock they'd just been through. "...Okay," he said after a minute. "So...we almost died tonight. That's...that's cool."

"Heh. Heheh. Heheheheheh..."

Eyes narrowing, he tried to crane his neck to see what the laughter was about. "Uh...are you cracking up back there?"

"It was just...just the way you said that," Dick half-giggled, half-moaned. "So sarcastic, but...but _not_, because we totally did almost...almost...you know." He sobered. "Die. Just now. God, if you hadn't popped out with the spray when you did...what took so damn long, anyway?!"

"It wasn't my fault!" Tim protested his innocence. "I couldn't see, I had to grope through my bag looking for it!" Anger began to mount, replacing the slowly-dissipating fear in his veins. "I went as fast as I could!"

"...You couldn't see?"

"Obviously, it's the middle of the night!" _Duh,_ he barely bit back.

"Timmy, you put our headlamps in the hanging basket specifically so that they would be easy to reach!"

"I-" The awful truth of that statement hit him. _It was right above me. Right there. I can't believe this..._ "...I'm an idiot."

Dick just laughed again. The ireful heat that had been building between them cooled in an instant, leaving only their usual loving warmth behind. "You didn't exactly have much time to stop and think about it. Besides, we survived, so...I forgive you." The last was said teasingly, and Tim felt an elbow nudge his ribs. "Nice shots with that spray, by the way."

"I'm not even sure I hit him right the first time."

"If you hadn't I'd be headless about now, so...you must have pegged him good."

He shuddered and changed the subject. "How did you know he was out here? I didn't even wake up until you said my name."

"Your early warning system went off."

He wrinkled his nose. "My what?"

"Your early warning system. Your prairie dog pals."

"..._Huh_?!"

"One of their sentries started barking, and it set off the others. It woke me up, and since they seemed pretty agitated and I don't speak prairie dog I figured I'd better get up and see what was going on. I thought it might be another big quake on the way, so I didn't want to wander far from the tent, but the headlamp showed me all I needed to see. That big old brute must have come in after whatever we weren't able to clean up of the spilled stew, I guess. He was following our path to here when I spotted him."

"Damn it...this is my fault," Tim griped. Remembering his worry about bleeding in the tent during the aftershock, his guilt grew. "My knees were dripping the whole way from here to the lake earlier. He must have been tracing the blood trail."

"Maybe he was, sure. Or maybe we're giving off some sort of 'injured' odor that we have no control over, and he followed that. Heck, he might have just been going for the prairie dogs, and we got in the way. It could even be that my light ticked him off, or he's just out of whack from all of the shaking. What matters," Dick ruffled his hair without turning around, "is that we're alive, and no worse for the wear except for minor heart attacks."

"…Yeah. You're right." He was, but there was something about what he'd said a moment before that Tim couldn't shake. "The prairie dogs...look, this is going to sound really stupid, but...you don't _really _think this has something to do with my rescuing that one earlier, do you?" He'd read enough about the animals of the western plains before the trip to know that the social rodents were far from stupid, but the idea of them having a well-enough developed sense of reciprocity to feel that they needed to alert the nearby humans about a bear disturbed him. "You would think that they would normally just tell each other and then all slip into their holes and shut up, wouldn't you?"

"I would, but...things are weird around here right now. Who knows how screwed up some of the animals have been made by the quakes and the force field? Although...they _did_ kind of feel like they were cheering for us when we were beating the bear up, didn't they?"

"Yeah," he chuckled. "They kind of did."

"And they're quiet now. Maybe...I don't know, honestly, Timmy. As awesome as it would be if I got to say after this that my little brother has the power to command prairie dogs to do his bidding, I just don't know why they reacted like they did. Sorry."

"It's okay," he shrugged. "It was a ridiculous question; I just needed to ask it anyway. But...commanding prairie dogs to do my bidding? Really?"

"It would be awesome!"

"'Awesome'? That's one of the worst superpowers I've ever heard!"

"Aww...but you could have an adorable fuzzy army at your disposal! Only to be used for good, of course, but still, can you imagine that? Any villain who thought going underground was clever would soon see the error of his ways, that's for sure."

"Sure," Tim rolled his eyes. "And then we'll get Bruce an air force of bats, you can run the elephant cavalry, and Damian...I don't know, we'll give him the hippo marine or something."

"I am really glad he didn't hear you say that. The hippo marine, seriously?"

"Hey, hippos are the deadliest animals in Africa other than mosquitoes, and I am _not_ suggesting that we give him a swarm of insects. I figured he'd _like_ hippos."

"...You have a point. I think he'd like how they can go from lackadaisical to lethal at the drop of a hat. But I refuse to use elephants in battle, it's too cruel."

"But battle's not too cruel for the other animals, huh?"

"Well...maybe it is. But they aren't elephants. I've seen elephants cry, and it's the saddest thing in the universe. Somehow I don't think the tears of a hippo would move me quite as much."

"No, you're probably right. You're definitely an elephantyphile."

"Mmm...elephantyphile...you know, I think I'll put that on my business cards from now on."

"Can't wait to see Bruce's face when you tell him that plan."

"Yeah..." A heavy sigh sounded. "Poor guy. Let's never, ever tell him what happened tonight, okay? Can we make that deal?"

Tim could picture the deathly pallor the billionaire's face would reach if he heard that they'd fought off a charging bear with some pepper spray and a walking stick. "Deal."

"Good." Dick yawned. "...We need more sleep. We can't hike tomorrow if we're exhausted, and we've got to get a move on towards the falls."

"Agreed, but...what if the bear comes back?" Maybe – just maybe – the prairie dogs had decided they owed him one a little while ago, but that didn't mean that they'd pipe up if the predator returned.

"We'll run it like a watch. Two hour shifts, one person sleeping, one out here with a headlamp watching. Sound good?"

It wasn't great, but it was the best option they had, so he nodded. "Yeah. But you're sleeping first."

"No, you can go ahead."

"_No," _he said firmly. "You found the bear, you fought the bear, and frankly I don't know how you're going to stand up and watch for two _minutes_ with a too-short crutch. You're sleeping first."

"Well...okay. But I'm setting my watch to go off in two hours, so don't think that you're going to leave me in there the whole rest of the night."

"Why would you think I would do that? I'm tired, too." It was actually exactly what he intended to do, but he pretended otherwise in the hopes of allaying suspicion and still pulling the trick off. _You need to rest more than I do,_ he thought. _You're worse hurt. I can manage._

"I _know_ you would do that, because if I was the first one on guard it's what _I _would try and do."

"…Oh," he blushed. "I guess we'll be passing your watch back and forth for the rest of the night then, huh?"

Dick laughed. "Sure, little brother. We'll do that. Here," he passed his stick over. "Hold onto this for me, just in case you need it."

"Thanks. Hey, dig out that other bear spray and put it up with the headlamp before you lay down, would you?" The last thing he wanted was a repeat of his earlier fumbling in the event that the bear made another sally into camp.

"You bet."

"Great. Here, I'll help you to the front and start my rounds from there."

"Thanks."

Linking elbows again, they pushed each other upwards with matching groans. When they reached the tent flap, Tim let the other man down slowly. "…Good?"

"Good. You?"

"Good enough."

"Nah, you're way better than good enough," Dick winked. "You're stellar."

The compliment made him smile. "Thanks."

"Hey, it's the truth."

"Yeah, well…get some sleep, okay?"

"Definitely. Holler if you need me, though."

"I will. Good night."

Night, Timmy." He stretched, then slid back into the inky depths of the shelter. "See you in a couple hours."

There was a rustle as Dick searched for the second can of pepper juice, and then a little 'ah-ha!' when he found it. A minute later all was silent save the low sound of Tim's own circling footfalls and the occasional squeak from the direction of the prairie dog colony. _A couple of hours, huh?_ He smirked. _Not if I can help it._ Once the older man had had time to slip into deep sleep, he would slither inside long enough to cancel his alarm. _See you in the morning, big brother._


	27. Chapter 27

"...Hey, Batman?" Flash ventured.

He glanced back at the man following him in the cockpit of the auxiliary jet. "What?"

"Um...look, I know he's your kid and all, but...you might want to let Robin slide a little on this one."

Not believing his ears, he stopped and turned to face the other man fully. "...What?" he repeated, his voice dropping dangerously.

"Okay, first off, I'm not twelve anymore, and the growl's effectiveness kind of wears off when you've grown up with it. Second, I'm just trying to help. Look..." Dropping into the co-pilot's seat, he crossed his legs one way and then the other, testing the comfort of each position. "I spent a fair amount of time around Damian while you were...you know, gone. More importantly, Dick and I talk damn near every single day. My point is, I have a pretty decent idea of what's been proven effective with Kid Vicious when it comes to correction."

"And what _exactly_ would you advise?" he almost snarled. _This isn't my first try at child-rearing, Wallace; I think I know what I'm doing by now._

"Not using that voice when you talk to him, for starters. Don't get me wrong, it will get him to do what you want him to, but it might also drive him away from you and make him look for new ways to rebel."

_...Hmm. _He didn't speak as he sat down and prepared the jet for takeoff. Even just a few months ago he might have brushed the suggestion off, but this morning he couldn't. Hadn't Alfred warned him mere weeks earlier that his youngest's behavior was likely to get even worse over the next few years? Didn't tonight, and for that matter so much of Damian's rage-and-ice behavior in the days since Dick and Tim had departed, demonstrate that puberty was indeed nigh?

The boy had never been pleasant, but there was a fickle sense of hurt lingering under his bad attitude of late that Batman had never seen in him before. Throw hormones into the mix and it wasn't difficult to imagine the canyon that already existed between them widening under the slightest provocation – as the result of an earthquake, for instance, he grimaced dourly. That was the last thing he wanted to happen, so he pressed for more information. "Is that what Dick would say?" he inquired with less ire in his tone than before.

"Maybe? I think so, at least. I'm probably mixing in some other stuff I've read on parenting, but...c'mon, man, you know the real reason he took the plane. I'm sure he does things just to piss you off sometimes, but this wasn't one of those instances."

_...No, it wasn't, _he admitted to himself. _It was for Dick_. With that being said, he was hard pressed to be mad at the child for his desire to find his eldest brother. He could still be upset by his actions, however. "He has to be punished for his poor decision." _He could get himself killed out there, _he thought, swallowing hard_. _To lose any one of them would be unbearable. To lose two would be death. To lose three in one go, though...if there was such a thing as a soul, his own would implode under the pressure of grief on that magnitude. "He has to know that I tell him to do things for a reason."

"Absolutely. I'm not saying don't punish him when this is all over and everyone's home safe. All I'm saying is that right now would be a terrible time to, say, restrict him to being under Alfred's direct supervision at the house. To be honest, Batman…if you don't let him have a hand in this rescue I don't know that he'll ever forgive you.

"Maybe that sounds like the ramblings of an outsider, although I would hope that by this point you don't think of me as removed from what goes on in your lives. The thing is, Dick talked about him _constantly_. There wasn't a whole lot else he could stand to talk about, I don't think, not with you 'dead', Tim mad, and Babs cold-shouldering him. So he talked, and I listened, because I knew what he was saying was important to him. Between that and watching them work together ever since Dick offered Damian a spot at Batman's side, I've learned one thing very, very well; that trying to come between Nightwing and Robin is almost as risky as trying to come between Nightwing and _you_."

The cowled figure stared silently out the window at the Appalachians far below, processing what had been said. Perhaps Flash's kinder, gentler method was worth trying, if only because his own had proven less than successful of late. Besides, Dick had managed the child so well during his long absence that he couldn't help but put stock in any technique those in the know said he would have utilized. Tilting his head just so, he spoke into the radio transmitter secreted alongside his face. "...Robin. Come in," he bade, keeping his words firm but not ireful.

"Batman! I'm at the force field, and-"

It had taken a moment for the reply to come back, and as a result a trace of annoyance slipped into his tone. "I know where you are, and I know how you got there. You are to get into the Batplane..." He glared, momentarily distracted as a red light appeared on the dashboard to signal that the cave was calling. "...And do nothing more than whatever it is you've already done."

"But-!"

"No buts," he said tersely.

"I fo-"

"Robin. In the plane. Don't move. Now." _Stop interrupting me. I hate it when you do that._ "I have to go. We'll talk later." Before the boy could launch another protest, he killed the connection.

"...Did he even get a word in edgewise?" Flash sighed beside him.

It was the sort of thing Dick would have asked had he been in the plane rather than Wally, and Batman felt a bolt of guilt go through him. _I tried, all right?_ he bit back. _He's just so damned pushy sometimes...like me, I suppose. _The thought gave him a moment's pause. He might have chased it further, but there was still a bulb begging for his attention on the dash. _Well...I did what I could. He'll wait where he is for now, and that's what matters._ "I thought this was more important than listening to all the ways he's failed to get inside," he retorted, and picked up the handset.

"Batman! Good, I was about to give up."

_...Clark? I __just__ saw you. Why are you calling?_ "What is it, Superman?"

"There's been another quake."

His skin broke out in goosebumps beneath his armor as his blood ran cold. "...Under the force field?" he breathed. _No, no, not there. Please not there. Haven't they been through enough?_

"No. This was an 8.6, estimated, right on the border of India and Pakistan. Local signal disruption was the same as in the prior events, but it doesn't seem like there's a barrier of any kind." He paused. "Ours was bad, but-"

"Hold on." The tiny speaker nestled against his ear had dinged, and he switched it on impatiently. "Robin?"

"Batm-"

"Robin, I am extremely busy. Do as I told you until I arrive." Flash, he noted, didn't comment on his brusqueness this time. Robin could wait; another massive quake could not. "Go on," he told Superman.

"...Right. Anyway, ours was bad, but this one is in a whole different league. There's _nothing_ left standing, and the political situation...well, it's India and Pakistan. You can imagine. They're not blaming each other out loud, but the tension's so high that they don't really need to." A beat passed. "Whoever our villain is, the park quake wasn't their last hurrah."

"We're inbound now. We'll report when we know something. Was there anything else?"

"No, I just wanted to let you know. I haven't had a chance to check the logs for energy transmissions yet, not with this new issue, but I'll let you know what I find. Good luck, Batman."

The bad news just wouldn't quit this morning, he reflected as he put the handset back. "...You're quiet," he commented to the pensive-faced Flash.

"Just thinking about how this baddie might not even have to set off too many more quakes in order to destroy the world indirectly through, say, nuclear war or economic collapse. It's the kind of thought that makes a person shut their mouth."

"Understood." While the younger man was focused on the potential aftereffects of the latest event, Batman couldn't stop wondering at the fact that it had been another intraplate temblor. _"_Whoever is responsible seems to have more than just a passing knowledge of plate tectonics," he mused aloud. "In fact, I would say it's more than even an enthusiast's knowledge."

"...You think it's a geologist or something, then?"

"I don't know, but to purposefully be making intraplate quakes..."

"It _does_ seem like a unique fetish."

"Correct."

"But how does geology play into the force field? Could it...could it be something with the planet's magnetic field, maybe? That's probably a stupid question, but...what do you think?"

"I would say it was a good idea, but the magnetic field is monitored around the clock. Any sizable variation is noted and researched specifically to prevent anyone from doing what you just proposed. If this does have to do with that, then we either have someone reproducing the magnetic field in miniature on the planet's surface or we have a traitor in the Watchtower."

"...Let's hope it's not that second one."

"Yes. Let's hope." For this all to be the work of a professional in the earth sciences fit in with everything he knew and had speculated thus far. The magnetic field still didn't feel like the right answer, though. Before he got a chance to do more than begin to settle down with the question, one of the screens lit up. "Damn it, Robin," he muttered.

"What's up?"

"He's back in the plane, but he's taking off." Reaching out, he started typing in the codes that would let him override the other aircraft remotely. "I told him to stay put."

"Batman..."

"_What?!"_

"Why don't you wait and see where he's going?"

"No. He's being disobedient, and I'm stopping him." Another password came up, and he kept typing.

"He's probably just looking for them, you know. Just scanning the ground. I mean...what if he actually found them by doing that?"

"He _won't_ find them by doing that. Not in that much area."

"Okay, well even if he doesn't, isn't he just doing what _you_ would do if you were stuck waiting out there?"

"He's not me. He's a child."

"Yeah. _Your_ child."

There it was again, that damned similarity. '_He's stubborn and argumentative and given to pacing,'_ Dick's voice rang in his head as a forgotten memory rose anew. '_Just like you are. It's adorable.'_ He wasn't finding it adorable at the moment, but as he calmed slightly he found that he could appreciate the aggravation that sitting next to the force field doing nothing would be. Damian needed punished, yes, but as Flash had said cutting him out of the rescue wasn't the way to do it. If he didn't go far, what was the harm in letting him look?

He sighed, his hand hovering above the display that would let him land the plane, lock its doors, and keep its engines shut off. Then he hit the button marked 'cancel' and watched the tracking map for a minute. The blip signifying the larger jet moved roughly a mile and a half from its start point, hesitated, and then retraced its steps and touched down.

_...That was odd._ He considered calling the child to ask what he'd been doing, but decided against it. He would be with him soon enough, and could ask such questions then. For now it would be more productive to try and piece together what he could about their adversary, and to maybe, just maybe, see what other techniques Flash could remember Dick using with the wayward youth back when discipline had been _his_ problem.

It didn't feel like enough, but there was little else he could do from thirty thousand feet in the air. Suddenly his feet itched to walk the narrow aisle to his rear over and over again, if only so that it felt like he might actually get somewhere. _Mm,_ his mouth tightened. _All right, Robin. I get it now. A little movement to ease the pain…I understand that. _

_I'm coming, boys,_ he promised. _I'm coming, and I'm going to do my best. _It was all he dared swear to, given the circumstances.

_ He just hoped it would be enough._


	28. Chapter 28

Two hours later he was striding across the grass towards where Robin sat with his back against the force field and a petulant sneer on his face. Flash kept pace easily, but Batman wasn't pleased by that. While he planned to try and follow the younger man's advice in dealing with his son, he didn't particularly want an audience in the event that he failed. "Go off to the side there and get to work," he ordered.

"...I thought you wanted to see, though?"

"I'll be able to see what I need to see. I have other business to attend to. Go get started, we're wasting time."

The redhead shrugged and peeled off without further argument, but his expression just before he turned said everything that his tongue did not. _He doesn't think I can do this,_ the cowled figure grimaced as he closed the gap to his partner. _He doesn't think I can control myself. Well, Wally, if you think me incapable of overcoming my emotions after all the years you've known me then I have overestimated your intelligence._

He drew to a halt before the seated child and crossed his arms. "Explain yourself," he requested, his voice terse but not threatening.

"Are you sure you have _time_ now?" a contemptuous reply came. "You don't have anything more _important_ to do?"

_Do I have time now?_ What kind of a question was that?He frowned. _Is that what the problem has been between us of late?_ _A sense of...of a lack of attention?_ It was true that he hadn't spent many hours bonding with the boy, especially in the civilian world, but to be fair Damian had never seemed to _want_ to bond. With Dick, yes, but...not with him. Something pricked in his chest at that thought, and he pushed it away. _Not now. _This wasn't relationship resolution time, it was action time.

Still, listening closely now might make up for his failure to do so earlier while also getting him the information he needed. With that in mind he tried to keep his tone from becoming icy as he explained. "I was in the middle of a crucial radio transmission. I couldn't interrupt that to talk to you."

The boy's snarl didn't so much as flicker. "I guess it _must_ have been important, since you opted to ignore an update on the primary objective in order to attend to it."

He drew a deep breath, about to launch into a lecture about how the call from Superman had _been_ about the primary objective, and then paused. Robin had overheard enough the day before to know that the entire planet was at risk, but it seemed as if that wasn't what he was referring to. There was only one other possibility, but how could he have news about Dick and Tim? _There's no way,_ he blinked in consternation. _There's just...there's just no way... _"What are you talking about?"

"I'm _talking_ about the fact that they were right here when I called you." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Right here, Batman, and you missed them." His sneer morphed without warning into a fragile half-pout. "You _missed_ them. You could have stopped them, you're the only one who could have stopped them, but you were so busy with your precious call that _you fucking missed them_!"

There was a watery edge to Damian's accusation, but Batman was too overwhelmed by the meaning of his words to register the emotion behind them just then. "They were here?" he repeated distantly, struggling to keep his voice from shaking. "When you called, they were...they were _here_?"

"Right there!" Leaping to his feet, the boy pointed at a slightly trampled section of dirt on the far side of the barrier. "They stood there, both of them, and _you missed it_."

"...Why didn't you tell me?!" he spluttered. _Dick. Tim. Right...right there. A few feet away. You were here, you're alive and you were __here__, and I...I missed it._

"_I tried_!"

He _had_ tried, that was the kicker. He'd tried twice, and both times Batman had shut him down. It dawned on the man suddenly that if he had been less angry, or had shown more than a passing interest in what the short jaunt in the Batplane had been about, he would have known hours ago that his children were alive and functional. _And I could have stopped them,_ he thought numbly, his brain reiterating what his youngest had said. A second later his brow furrowed. _Wait...stopped them from __what__?_ "Robin...where are they? Where have they gone?"

"Where do you think?! They're going after whoever's doing this!"

He boggled at the boy, confusion and fear tightening around his bowels in a death grip. "How do they know there's someone to go after, let alone where to go to find them?"

"Because..." Robin turned his face away, and in that instant Batman knew what he was about to say. "...Because I told them."

_They'll be killed, _a certainty rang in his head. There was no telling who or what was causing the force field and the earthquakes, let alone how much back-up they might have; the only thing he knew was that two no doubt injured civilians couldn't possibly win the day against he, she, or it. Even if Dick and Tim had gone under the dome as Nightwing and Red Robin he would have been doubtful about their odds against this unknown adversary. _Why? Why would you tell them that? __Why__? _"Robin," he prepared to tirade, speaking so low that his throat ached after a mere two syllables. _...What have you done? What have __I__ done? If I have answered...if I had listened...oh, god... _He nearly doubled over in agonized shock. _What have I done?!_

"Batman."

Flash's cautioning murmur restrained him before he could pour his self-loathing out on his son. Using every ounce of self-control that he possessed, Batman reeled himself back in. "...Robin," he repeated, sounding stressed but far less murderous than before, "why did-"

"I couldn't help it, don't you understand?!" the boy burst out. "_Nothing_ can get through this thing! You tried a ton of stuff, Superman did his things...even _rockets_ don't make a dent! Someone...someone has to stop this, and they're the only ones inside. I_ had_ to...to tell them..." He trailed off, sniffling.

A few tears had slipped past Damian's mask and now lay glimmering on his cheeks. Batman wasn't sure if they were the result of his obvious anger or of something else, and he had more pressing questions than that to ask just now, but the sight of those fat drops did force his jaw to unclench slightly. "Robin...did you say _rockets_ don't get through?"

"Y-yes." Another sniffle sounded. "I tried here and at...at the middle of the dome. See?" He gestured to where shrapnel lay scattered in the grass a dozen yards away. "It didn't do _anything_."

Batman closed his eyes. "You fired live rockets at a force field that you knew your brothers were underneath of?" he verified, his disbelief growing anew.

"We didn't try ordinance the first time. I thought-"

"No, Robin, you _didn't_ think," he cut him off. "If you had thought, you would have realized how reckless and foolhardy you were being. What if the rockets had ricocheted right back at you and hit the plane? You might have been killed. What if one had gotten through? You had no idea where they were at that point, correct?"

"...No. I didn't. But-"

"But _nothing_." He stared at him for a second, his heart heavy with disappointment and worry, before going on. "If a rocket had gotten through, it might have hit them. It might have destroyed their path and left them stranded. It might have started a fire inside that could have trapped or suffocated them. The only thing that those rockets were unlikely to do, Robin, was to destroy the force field enough to let us in!"

"I was aiming at the tower that's holding it up! It _might_ have worked, it just didn't. And I _did_ think of the risk of a forest fire, but...well...I had to try, didn't I? I had to try _something_."

He felt like dropping to his knees and screaming at the sky. Dick and Tim had been here, and he'd missed it. They'd gone after whatever cruel mind was threatening to tear the world apart from behind an impenetrable shield, and he might have stopped them. On top of it all, Damian was crying, not even missiles could hurt the barricade, and now there was a mysterious tower taunting him, too. "...Flash," he muttered. _Help me. I'm losing it._

To his credit, the speedster had stood by silently during the familial argument. "Yeah?" he answered now.

"Give me good news, Flash." _Tell me something you did worked. Anything._

But the other man just shuffled his feet. "...I've got nothing, Batman. I don't think I've ever vibrated like that before in my life, and it didn't do a damn thing. I...I've never encountered anything like this. It's so dense. If I didn't know any better I'd say that there's next to no space between the atoms making it up, but...I don't know how that's possible."

"...Neither do I." _Damn it. Damn it!_ There were still a couple of ideas from the task force meeting that they could try, but if the force field was constructed as Flash had said there was no chance of them succeeding. "Why didn't they wait?" he asked Robin in something very near to his civilian voice. A note of helplessness crept in as he echoed himself. "...Why didn't they just _wait_ for me?"

"They didn't...they didn't have any water," the child reported miserably. "They were thirsty, Batman. They _couldn't_ wait two and a half hours without water just to see you, especially when you wouldn't be able to get through to them. They're already hurt, and...and they needed water." He raised a gloved hand to swipe at his face. "So I found them some. They were going to go there and then...and then go after the person who's in there with them. That was their plan."

_Hurt and dehydrated,_ Batman moaned to himself. _Oh, boys...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..._

"That's why you moved the plane after I told you not to?"

"Yes. I had to find them water."

_And I almost stopped you. Jesus. _He glanced at the other man, who wore a sympathetic look rather than the chastising one that Batman felt he deserved. _If I hadn't listened to you, Flash, they might already be as good as dead._ As awful as it was to know that his sons had left here mere hours earlier, it would have been far worse to arrive only to watch their bodies slowly fail from lack of moisture. "Well...I suppose you had to disobey on that count, then," he allowed.

"Yes. I did."

"And you found them water, right?"

"Of course."

"Good." He took a long, slow breath and measured the Gordian knot that his emotions had wrapped themselves into during the past ten minutes. Unlike the great Alexander of legend, he had no bold action open to him with which he might defeat the tangle; all he had was a league's worth of useless heroes and a mounting sense of despair. "...Get in the Batplane, Robin," he finally bade the boy.

"You're not sending me home."

It was a statement, not a question. Rather than correcting the child's presumption, though, he just gave a weary shake of his head. "No. I'm not. You're going to show me this tower you mentioned, and you're going to show me the water you sent them to."

He could have just reversed the plane's flight path and found both locations that way, but Flash's warning was lurking at the back of his mind. Besides, there was little else that the youth could do to put himself in danger now that they were at an apparent stalemate. Short of them being on the ground in the event of another major quake or their adversary launching a direct attack on them, there was no risk of physical injury to any of them. That being the case there was no longer any advantage to keeping him away from the epicenter, so he wouldn't try. "Get in the plane. I'll be right behind you."

"...Fine."

Batman watched his son mount the stairs and disappear inside the larger aircraft. "...Are you staying with us?" he directed at the speedster.

"Yes. I know I could be more useful in the cities, but..." He turned his head to look at the faint marks of passage their missing fellows had left. "...My best friend is out there somewhere, about to fight something we know nothing about. I wouldn't be much of a bro if I didn't stick around in case there was some way I could help."

"Very well. Go ahead inside, then. And Wally?" he stopped him as he made to do as he'd been told.

"Yeah, Batman?"

He grimaced, but he managed two words. "...Thank you."

"Sure. Any time. And you know...you didn't do too bad, considering what's going on and that you're...well..._you_. This probably doesn't mean much of anything, but...I was impressed. I think Dick will be, too, when he hears about it."

_When...if...no,_ he banished the second word. _Not if. When._ "Mm."

Flash gave a tiny smirk. "Thought you might say that." He turned away. "See you inside, Batman."

When he was alone, he stepped up to the transparent wall and rested one hand on it. For an instant he could picture Dick standing on the other side, bare millimeters away. His son smiled in that special way that was reserved only for him, then pressed his palm against the inside of the barrier. Even though he knew it wasn't real, he could almost feel heat building up between them. _So close, and yet so goddamn far. Dicky..._

His eyes reached flood stage just as his vision of his eldest faded. He blinked until the waters receded, then raised his second hand in the vague hope that it might let him imagine Tim. There was a glimmer of a cautious but warm glance, and then he went the way of his brother and disappeared. _No...please...Tim..._

_Come back,_ he begged, his fingers curling into fists. They bounced pointlessly off of the smooth barricade, and a choked cry escaped his lips. _My brave boys...come back to me...please...just come back to me..._


	29. Chapter 29

"There it is," Robin pointed through the windshield at a silvery glint below. "That's the tower. That's where they're going."

"I see it," his father acknowledged, slowing the plane. "Do you know where we are? Is it near the trail?"

"Yes," he swallowed. "It's right by Asperity Falls. I think that big drop there used to be it, see?"

The water-polished cliff he had picked out was visible even without magnification. Flash leaned forward to look, then frowned. "It's dried up," he commented. "The river beds above and below it are empty."

"...No," Batman said a moment later as he peered at a screen. "Not dried up. Dammed. Here." Turning the monitor towards them, he indicated a bluish glint on the horizon. "It's difficult to tell from this distance, but it looks like a rockfall blocked the flow from upstream. That's why the falls have stopped."

Damian hadn't thought his stomach could sink any lower than it had during the two hours he'd sat lambasting himself for telling Grayson and Drake that they were the only people who could save the world. As he stared at the blockage, though, he discovered that he'd been wrong. "...Batman?"

"Mm?"

"If...if those rocks move...like if there's another major quake and they're shaken out of position..." He couldn't finish the thought. It was obvious what would happen if the dam broke; everything in front of it would be swept away to its death.

"...Let's just hope that they're out of the way when or if that happens," the cowled figure said firmly.

"Yeah," Flash contributed, his tone positive but his face disturbed. "It's withstood aftershocks already, so...maybe it'll just stay like that."

Damian doubted it, but he bit his tongue. Despite not being a superstitious child, he didn't want to speak his thoughts out loud only to have them come true down the line. _Jinxes are impossible_, he tried to scoff at himself. _...But then again, _he had to allow, _so are impenetrable force fields._ In this case, he supposed safe was better than sorry.

They landed near the spot where the pole jutting up from the earth ended. The stairs clunked down onto the barrier in the same manner as they had been the day before, and all three of them moved to the door. "Stay here, both of you," Batman bade. "I won't be long."

"Stay here?" the younger man objected before the boy could. "Why? It's solid out there."

"For now, yes. But whoever is controlling it seems to be becoming more aggressive. Think about the India-Pakistan quake; many, many more people will have died there than here. I consider that an elevation of hostilities."

He removed his cape as he spoke and replaced it with a flattish black backpack from a nearby compartment. "If they know we're here – and they likely do, unless they have no one on guard below – then they might consider blinking the force field under our boots to be an excellent way to cull our numbers. The plane will continue to hover regardless, but if you come with me there will be three people trying to get back through a very narrow opening very quickly. This way, I'm the only one who has to scramble." He cast a glance over them both, then turned away. "Stay here," he reiterated, and walked down the half-deployed staircase.

"...Shit," Flash muttered. "What good does it do us if _he_ falls a thousand feet? I can't fly this thing."

"I can," Robin said irritably. "Obviously. Besides, he's wearing a parachute." He paused. "He's probably _hoping_ he'll fall." _I would be._ _In fact..._

Batman had left the cabinet open, and it took him only a second to shrug on a pack of his own. "Stay here."

"Uh, _no._" A strong grip on his shoulder stopped him. He yanked out of it, but the speedster, who was far too fast for him, grabbed his wrist instead. "You're not going out there."

"Let go of me, West," he glared. _Let me have a chance to go down to them. Let me fix what I've done..._

"Are you kidding? Whatever was left after Batman finished tearing me a new one wouldn't be able to stand the look of disappointment Dick would give me for letting you fall a thousand feet from a perfectly good airplane. You're staying here, little man. Sorry."

"...'Little man'?" Gaping, he launched an angry assault. "No one calls me-"

"_Chill_, dude, okay?" Flash urged, ducking. "If it helps, I get it." He shot right, bumping into the bulkhead. "Ow. I get that you want to help-" he dodged another blow "-get them back. I do, too. It's why I'm-"

The man vanished, and before he knew what was going on Damian found himself on the floor with his arms and legs pinioned from behind. "-Here," the man finished. "So just relax, alright? I know it's tough, but just relax."

"West," he spat, "when I get up, I swear I'll-"

"When you get up, you'll thank him for keeping you from doing something _else_ stupid today," Batman's voice broke in. Robin tried to crane around to see him, but there was a wall in the way. The sound of the door slamming shut reached his ears, and he slumped in defeat. "...Let him go, Flash."

"Sure."

He was instantly free, but he took his time getting up. _That was pathetic. I should have known he wouldn't let me go without a fight. Next time,_ he made a mental note, _I knock him out before he realizes anything's going on. He can't move fast if he's unconscious._

"Give me the parachute," Batman went on once Robin was on his feet. He complied unhappily, gazing at his feet the whole time, and then the man went on. "If you attempt to disobey me again, I _will_ send you home to Alfred. If I have to do that, rest assured that you will _not_ be able to sneak away again. I don't want to have to go to that length, but if that is what it takes to ensure your safety then I will." A gauntleted thumb and finger gripped his chin and gently turned his face up. "Do. You. Understand?"

There was no doubt in his mind that he would be cut from the mission and grounded for many weeks – maybe even months – if he didn't straighten up. "...Yes," he ground out.

"Yes what?"

"I understand." _I just want to help,_ he moaned internally. _Don't __you__ understand that this is all my fault? If I'd just kept my mouth shut...just told them that you were on the way and you'd get them out..._ But he hadn't, and now they were lost again and on their way towards an opponent that not even the best and the brightest of the JLA could figure out how to overcome. _It's all my fault. _"...Now let me go."

The hand holding him in place retreated, and he swiveled away from the cockpit. "Where are you going?" Batman asked.

"I'm...going to get something to eat," he made a lame excuse. He'd never been less hungry in his life, but it was the only thing he could think of that might earn him some time alone. "I suspect low blood sugar may have been a factor in my...disobedience." It hadn't been, he knew, but he wasn't going to let an opportunity to reassign blame for his misstep go by.

"For which you still owe Flash an apology and a thank you."

"I..." _That's cruel, father,_ he stewed. _He isn't even inside the family. Well...Grayson says he's as good as, but it's still not the same._

The speedster solved his problem for him, however. "C'mon, Rob," he smiled kindly. "You know me. Just show me where this food you mentioned is and we'll call it fair and square, okay?"

"...Fine." Putting up with the presence of his brother's friend for a few minutes in order to avoid speaking sentiments that he didn't feel would be an acceptable enough trade. "It's just energy bars, but...they're in the medical bay." _Maybe if you're with me I won't see that awful vision again,_ he shivered as he led the way towards the rear of the jet. _That would make the annoyance of your company worth it, at least._

"Sweet, s'more flavored," Flash said a minute later. He took a huge bite, chewed, and then wrinkled his nose. "...Or something like that. Ugh."

"I said it was sustenance, not that it was good." Skirting the table on which Dick had given his final shudder in his dark premonition of the day before, he moved to the window. "You may as well take them all if you're hungry."

"I thought your blood sugar was low?" a teasing tone answered.

It was exactly the sort of thing that Grayson would have said in this situation, and it nearly made him choke. "...Stop it," he whispered, the request coming out weaker than he would have liked. _I know what you're doing, but...stop._

"Stop what?"

Baring his teeth, he shot the redhead – now leaning lazily against the counter and working on his second nutrient stick – a nasty look. "It's clear that you've studied his tactics for getting me to talk, all right? And you and he are enough alike in character that you can deploy some of his tricks fairly well."

"Thanks," Flash nodded. "That's a pretty big compliment, you know."

"Well, this isn't; _you aren't him_. You aren't him, and I don't want to talk, so just leave me alone." With that he balled his hands into tight fists at his side and stared out the window again. _Go away, Wally. The only person I want right now is limping along with a stick crutch somewhere below us. You can do nothing for me._

The air stirred beside him. "...Okay, Damian," the man, now only inches away, spoke plainly. "You're right; I'm _not _him. But _you're_ not the only one who wants him back in one piece. You, me, Batman, Superman-" the boy snorted "-Wonder Woman, Alfred...we all have the same goal right now, and a big part of that goal is getting Dick and Tim both home safe.

"I meant it earlier when I said I know how tough it is; remember, I argued about going out onto the force field, too. But the trick is to look past what you _want_ to do and instead consider what you _can_ do to help the mission as a whole. Sometimes that means taking a chance, like when Batman stepped out that door a few minutes ago. Other times it means accepting a logical, prudent argument and staying behind in the plane, even if that's the most frustrating thing in the world at that moment. The point is, the mission is bigger than any one of us. If you can help the mission doing something you want to do, that's great, but if you can't, then you just close your mouth and do what you've got to do.

"That's a hard lesson, Robin, I know. I wasn't so great at following directions and seeing the value in listening to my elders when I was a kid, and believe me, I got into trouble as a result. Sometimes Dick dragged me out of it; sometimes I dragged him into it. Every time, my uncle – the old Flash, he was before your time – would put on this funny look and remind me that sometimes you just have to shut up and color, even if you disagree. I hated it, but he was right, and the sooner you accept that fact, buddy, the easier some things are going to be."

"It sounds like capitulation," Damian said mockingly. "I would think you would know by now that we are not the kind of people who roll over and give in."

"And I think that you know that I'm not like that, either. But that's not what this is. This is tactics, Robin; just tactics. I've never been good at them, which is part of why your brother is such a godsend as a friend. But you _are_ good at them, and that's why I'm telling you all of this. Save yourself some serious stress and learn how to shut up and color when the time is right. You won't be giving up, you'll be saving yourself for the battles that are really worth fighting. It's...shit, how did Dick say it? Proper application of force," he snapped his fingers. "That's the heart of tactics, at least according to Nightwing. You don't have to make a stand on every hill to win the war; just on the important ones. Make sense?"

Damian was too busy processing what had been said to answer. 'Shut up and color'...it was an odd thing to say, but he rather liked the way it sounded like advice wrapped in an insult. It certainly wouldn't be an easy thing to put into practice, but if Nightwing did it, and if it would keep him out of trouble for the rest of the mission, it was worthy of consideration.

"Well...think about it, anyway." Flash's hand landed on his shoulder for a moment, then flew away before he could even consider whether he wanted to try and shake it off or not. "I'll see you up front in a little while, maybe."

He watched his reflection recede in the window. "Flash," he called him back at the door.

"Yeah?"

"...There's something he said to me once, too, you know. Nightwing."

"Oh? What was that?"

"He said that your children were very lucky to have you as their father."

The speedster's lip trembled suddenly. "He...he really said that to you? I mean, he tells me that all the time, but...he says it to other people, too?"

"Yes. He does." A beat passed. "If you speak to them the way you just spoke to me...well...suffice it to say that I think I might know now why he feels as he does. That's not a compliment," he made clear, "just an observation."

"You know...you're a good kid, Robin. I didn't believe him when he told me that at first, but he was right. You're a pain in the ass sometimes, but...still a good kid."

Now Damian's mouth was the one in danger of giving away his emotions. He twisted the tremor into a bitter smirk with great difficulty and pointed it at the world below. "Perhaps," he conceded. "...But good luck getting anyone else to agree."


	30. Chapter 30

"...Robin."

The boy stiffened. Flash had departed the medical bay several minutes earlier, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He'd been briefly distracted by the tactical concepts the speedster had mentioned, but he'd circled back towards his guilty conscience before long. Lost in self-disdain and feeling as if he might lose control of his tears again, the last thing he wanted to hear was his father's voice. "Go away," he muttered.

He hadn't really expected his request to work, and it didn't. Instead of fading back into the hall, the cowled figure came forward from the doorway and joined him at the window. "You're still allowed in the cockpit."

"So what?" he spat. "It's not like there's anything I can do up there."

"No. Not really." A beat passed. "I retraced your route to the water source."

"I know." He'd gathered as much when the strange half-floating lake had come into view below his window. "Did you...did you see them down there?"

"...No. I didn't. There appears to be a steep drop between the edge of the plain and the water. If they were thinking, they got what they needed and then moved away from the cliff in case of aftershocks."

_Or they never got there at all,_ he gulped. _Or they got there and fell in. Or..._ He shook himself. _Or they did exactly what he just suggested. _If anyone could guess how Nightwing and Red Robin were likely to react in a crisis, it was Batman, who had trained them both. "Mm..."

Several awkward minutes went by without a single word being exchanged. Eventually the man cleared his throat. "We can begin a broader search under magnification, but you'll need to come up front for that. The more eyes on the screen, the more likely we are to find them."

Damian finally looked up at the figure beside him. "When I wanted to start doing that exact thing yesterday you said it was pointless," he accused, crossing his arms. "So what's changed? Has your ability to pick out distant anomalies suddenly become superhuman, or are you just out of other options?" The question came out harsher than he'd intended it to, but he didn't apologize. He wasn't the one intruding on someone else's private time, after all, so why should he?

Batman flinched. His mouth opened as if he was about to offer a retort, and then closed again. "...The latter," he managed. "But you already knew that."

"Yeah. I did." As nice as it was to win even the smallest of arguments with his mentor, the verbal victory gave him no joy now. If even Batman was out of ideas that didn't involve scouring seven hundred square miles inch by inch, their mission was in serious trouble. "...Father?" he broached slowly, his ire draining as he sank back into the knowledge that he might never see his brothers – not even the annoying one – alive again.

The title earned him a sidelong glance. "Yes?"

"If they don't...I mean, if they can't...if they..." He couldn't finish. No matter how he phrased things, his words were going to imply that Dick and Tim wouldn't succeed in the task he'd dropped on their shoulders. That in turn would be an assumption that they were going to die in the attempt, and he refused to speak such a thing out loud.

"I don't know what we'll do then, Robin," Batman answered his unfinished query. "...I suppose we should just feel fortunate that they were in the right place at the right time."

Something similar to that thought had been in his own head when he'd been debating whether or not to tell the men under the dome about the mission that only they could undertake. It sounded incredibly callous now, though, and he wasn't afraid to say as much. "'The right place at the right time'?" he gaped. "'Fortunate'? They're going to climb mountains with crutches, bandaged limbs, and a probable concussion, and you call that _'fortunate'?!"_

"...Wait, what?"

It was a shocked-sounding civilian Bruce who spoke from underneath the Bat's ears, and the shift in tone was enough to knock him momentarily off track. "What, what?"

"What did you say, about...about their injuries?"

"Oh..." He had told Batman that they were hurt, but looking back over the last hour he realized that he hadn't gone into details. "They...Grayson's walking with a crutch. Not a very good one, obviously, but he seemed...he seemed to be making it work. One of his legs was wrapped below the knee, so I guess that's why he needs the support. He had some gauze on his forehead, too, like he'd taken a hard blow. I don't _know_ that he's concussed – he didn't act off, at least – but he must have been bleeding to require a bandage there. And his arms..." His arms and hands, all sliced up and rubbed raw, would have made marvelous training displays of defensive wounds, he gulped.

"What about Tim?"

"Drake looked good compared to Grayson. He had a couple of taped fingers and some dings, that's all." He hesitated, unwilling to give the third Robin any more credit than was absolutely necessary but unable to forget the mess of fresh scabs showing below the edges of his cut-off pants. "His knees looked painful, as well. Rather like...like someone had tried to put them in a food processor."

"...And they've gone after a madman like that?"

"...Yes." _On my advice. They're climbing mountains in pieces because...because I told them they had to save the world._

"Oh, god..." Batman moaned, and turned away.

Damian didn't need to see past his mentor's lenses to know that the eyes behind them had closed. "...I'm sorry," he whispered. He had held up through aftershocks, the discovery of the force field and their impotency against it, and even his visits with the trapped men, but hearing such a pleading, helpless tone come from beneath the cowl was too much. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean...I didn't want..." And then he slumped to the floor, exhausted, overwrought, and horribly heartsick, and began to cry.

"Robin..." There was a _clunk_ as Batman settled down beside him. A second later a hand – an ungloved hand, his mind noted absently – landed on the back of his neck. "...Robin, it's not your fault."

"It _is_!" he sobbed. "It _is_ my fault! I...I shouldn't have told them. I should have just pretended that we didn't know anything. If you had seen them...I didn't want to send them, I swear, but I didn't know what else to do!"

"...Damian-"

"No! Don't tell me not to blame myself! Just...just don't be stupid like that. Just leave me alone..."

But the thumb slowly circling the spot where his spine met his skull didn't stop, and the warmth soaking into his side didn't draw away. "It's not your fault," a gentle rumble promised. "...It's mine."

Blinking rapidly, he lifted his head from his knees just enough to look over. "You mean because...because you didn't let me talk earlier?"

"Partially, but...I was guilty long before that, as well. I knew there had been suspicious earthquakes around the world of late, but I kept that information from them. I knew – or I should have known – that you wouldn't respond well to being sent back to the house last night, especially after you specifically requested to stay out here and help. More than anything, though, I knew that if something came up that they could get their hands into, they would. And I knew that," he grimacing bitterly, "because that is _exactly_ what I trained them to do, and exactly what I've trained you to do, too."

_But you __had__ to do that,_ the boy frowned. _What good are we if we don't jump into bad situations and try to set them right?_ Still, it did appear to have backfired spectacularly in this instance. Yes, Dick and Tim were under the force field with their adversary, but just because they'd leaped into action didn't mean that they had the strength or the supplies to see it through. "...What's that thing Grayson says all the time?" he sniffled. "The cliché?"

"Which one?" The man almost managed a weak smile. "He has a collection of them."

"The one about...about good deeds?"

"'No good deed goes unpunished?'"

"Yeah," he agreed as he drew the back of his hand across his upper lip. "That's the one I was thinking of."

"It's certainly appropriate in this case."

"You trained them to do good deeds-"

"-And you made the difficult decision to tell them that the world needed them to perform one."

"And now we're both suffering." Tim's lacerated knees appeared behind his eyes again, and he couldn't help but shudder. If Drake had uncovered injuries like that, he could only imagine what Grayson's leg must look like beneath its bandage. "...But not as much as they are, and are likely to."

"You're right. And that, Robin, is why you and I are suffering; because they are."

"It's stupid. It's stupid to care," he complained. "It just makes you hurt. It just makes you suffer."

"I know. But sometimes you simply can't avoid it."

"Hurting?"

"Caring."

"...Yeah," he sighed. "I know."

"Mm...good."

"Good that I'm in pain? That's nice."

"Good that you care. You knew what I meant."

"...Yeah," he repeated. "I did." Neither spoke for a moment. "I just want him back, father. I just want him home safe. Drake can come home too, just...just so long as Grayson comes back so I can make sure he knows that I don't...I don't hate him..."

"He knows, son. Trust me, he knows. Dick's greatest talent has always been knowing the things that his loved ones can't say out loud; trust in his skill."

"It's not a very useful one for him to have in his current predicament."

"I used to feel the same way, until I saw what love can motivate him to do."

"Yeah, but what _good_ is it if it motivates him to do something that will get him killed?!" His fist had bounced off of the wall before he even realized he'd formed one. "We need him _alive_, damn it!"

"Yes, we do. But that's where you have to trust in Tim."

"Hmph." Although he was feeling less hostile towards the younger of the missing pair than he could ever remember being before, he was far from ready to heap praise and confidence upon him.

"I mean that. I agree with you that Dick is likely to do things that he shouldn't and to push too hard, and that he'll do those things out of a sense of love and duty. But Tim, while he feels those emotions as well, has a bit more practical of a head on his shoulders. Pair that with how much he cares about Dick, and there's no one better suited to restrain him just enough to keep him from getting himself killed while still helping him to get the job done."

"...I figured _you_ would be the best at that."

"No. I once thought that I was, but I know myself better now. When it comes to my children – all of my children, Robin, not just the two of them – I am over-protective by nature. That is why you all have to buck the reins from time to time; because I occasionally pull back too hard."

It was a startling admission, to say the least, and it left Damian boggling. "If I take that as an apology," he said eventually, not looking at the man's hidden eyes, "will you accept my saying that we generally forgive you in kind?"

A short chuckle sounded. "You're still in trouble for not listening when this is all over, but...that seems like a fair trade."

"...Okay. Good." Shaking off the fingers on his neck, he stood. There was still guilt lingering in his chest, and the fear bubbling below it hadn't cooled a single degree, but for some reason he felt better after the talk they'd just shared. "...Do you still require assistance in the cockpit?" he asked slowly.

Batman rose, pulled his glove back on, and sent him a look that he would have sworn was a faint-but-proud smile. "Yes," he answered. "Your assistance would be appreciated."

"Then let's go." Even if they found nothing, he mused as they walked out of the medical bay, actively doing something together _had_ to be better than sulking alone.


	31. Chapter 31

"Mmmph..." Dick stretched without opening his eyes, the motion feeling both marvelous and awful at the same time. His leg was by far the worst, and as he extended it he thought something gave out under the bandage. _Oops_, he winced, and waited. Relief flooded him after a moment when no rush of warm liquid came. The last thing he needed was to go on bear guard with a freshly bleeding wound...

Realizing belatedly that he hadn't been woken by his alarm, he frowned and looked up at the roof of the tent. "...Tim?" he called out in an unusually cross tone.

"Uhhhm...yes?"

_Yeah, you know you're in trouble, little brother,_ Dick grimaced. "Why am I able to see perfectly well in here without a headlamp?" he queried. _You didn't sleep at all, did you? Timmy...that was so foolish..._

"...Because the bear slobber gave you superpowers?"

"I'm thinking not."

A sigh sounded from the other side of the thin fabric wall. "Okay, okay...it's because the sun rose an hour ago." His shadow passed by, and the peculiar squeal of the entry hole's zipper sounded. A second later he was bending through the doorway, a repentant smile on his lips and dark smudges under his eyes. "...If I promise to take a nap before we go anywhere, will you at least say good morning?"

"If I say good morning, will you promise not to do that again?"

"You needed to sleep, Dick. I'm sorry, but it's the truth."

"You need sleep too, Timmy." He pushed himself into a sitting position and reached out to pinch the younger man's chin between his thumb and forefinger. Turning his face from side to side, he examined him. "...You should see yourself. You look like you haven't had any rest in a week. No offense."

"None taken, but I would point out that you look just as bad. And that's _after_ a full night's rest." A beat passed. "I stand by my decision. You needed it more than I did."

"_You-_" He trailed off, then shook his head. "Okay. Let's stop this. What's done is done. I'm not especially happy about it, but I'm not going to stew over it, either. What I _am_ going to do is insist that you take at least a two hour nap before we start out. So…good morning."

"I know we're working on a timeline, but I won't argue with you. I'm exhausted."

"I'll bet. Here, back up for a second so I can get out and make room for you."

Tim did as he'd been told, leaving the entrance clear. Dick rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled to the opening, where a burst of unfiltered sunlight made him hiss and shade his eyes. Once the throbbing beneath the gauze on his forehead had subsided, he bent his good leg and pushed himself up. "Gah!"

In his tired state he had overestimated how much force would be necessary to gain his full height, and now he had to step forward onto his wounded limb in order to compensate. It proved as good as useless, however, giving out immediately. He fell forward with a yelp of alarm. An expert mid-air turn let him land on his shoulder and roll instead of sprawling ignobly on his face, but it was still a bone-jarring hit. "Oowww..."

"Dick!" Tim was at his side in an instant, giving a curse as he fell to his butchered knees. "Shit! What happened?! Are you okay?"

"I'm alright, Timmy," he groaned. "Just...didn't know I had a frozen turkey drumstick for a leg this morning."

"Is it _that_ stiff?"

"Ooooh, yeah." His ankle and knee had tried to compensate for the utter immobility of every muscle between them, but it hadn't been enough. "...I'm not bleeding again, am I?"

"I don't think so. If you are it isn't coming through the bandage. Um...what...?"

"Hand me my crutch. That will help until it loosens up a little."

"It's too short, remember? You broke it on the bear."

"I know, but it's better than nothing." It would be enough to get him on his feet and to let him hobble around the tent, and that would suffice for now.

"Here," the branch appeared. "Take my arm, too."

"Yup. Upsie-daisy...okay...whoa..." He swayed briefly, clutching at both his crutch – now more of a cane, if he wanted to be honest with himself – and his brother in order to stay upright. "There," he sighed as things leveled out. "I'm good now."

"Are you _sure_?"

"Sure." He wasn't, but he figured he'd make it work somehow. They had a bear to get away from and a villain to get closer to; the sooner Tim got his rest, the sooner they could get underway. It would do nothing but delay them if he kept falling over.

"You don't sound very confident."

_Crap. You're getting to be as good as Bruce is at telling when I'm covering something up. _"Um...my voice _might_ match how I actually feel," he confessed sheepishly.

"Can you even stand on your own?"

"...Maybe?"

A heavy sigh came from the figure tucked in close beside him. "Okay. See that patch of trees three, four hundred yards from here?"

He squinted through the bright post-storm morning. "...You mean the ones that look like they're about a billion miles away?"

"Heh. Yeah, those ones."

"I see them. What about them?"

"That's where we're getting you a new crutch before I go to bed."

"Timmy-!" _Go to sleep, you overprotective dork, _he bit back._ I'll manage, somehow…_

"How are you going to stand bear guard if you can't even _stand_, Dick? What are you going to do if it comes back, offer to play it at tic-tac-toe in the dust to decide whether or not it eats us?"

"...Can I have best two out of three?" he tried a joke.

"Diiiick..."

"Okay, okay. To the trees we go. But you're still sleeping two full hours when we get back."

"Right. Ready?"

He braced himself for pain. "...Ready."

They half-hopped to the thicket, with Dick trying to use his bad leg and Tim trying to hold him up every time it collapsed. It did loosen slightly over the distance they traversed, but not enough to let him stand on his own for more than a few seconds. "Ah," he breathed as they reached their destination, both of them panting and dripping with sweat. "Shade."

"And mosquitoes," Tim replied, smacking the back of his neck with his free hand.

"Where's the bug dope?"

"Back at camp, naturally."

"Excellent. So we're making this quick, then?"

"Yup."

Left to lean against one of the few trunks that had stayed in place through the earthquake, he watched as his brother pawed through downed limbs. The first two he found were a bit too short and crooked, respectively. The third one was playing host to a healthy ant population. It was only on the fourth try that Dick took an experimental step and managed to not fall down. "Haha! Success!"

"Good. If that one will work, let's head back. We're burning daylight."

"And you still have to sleep," he tacked on as they left the buggy patch of trees behind. _I'm not letting you weasel out of it by not mentioning it, little brother. No way._

But Tim didn't object. "I know. Are you sure you'll be okay to stand guard?"

"I'll be okay now that I've got a crutch again." Indeed, his leg was improving under the pressure of use. Every step seemed to be a little less taxing than the one prior, and although the pain mounted along with the flexibility he grinned and bore it. There was still some ibuprofen at camp, and he didn't have time to let the ache shooting dully into his foot and thigh slow him down. "Hey. Wanna race?" he nudged the figure beside him.

"…Are you shitting me?"

"Yes. I'm pretty sure a tortoise could beat me in a race at this point."

"At least you aren't as over-confident as the hare. That would be insufferable in a hiking partner."

"And dangerous." They had regained the tent. Dick passed the door, turned around, and attempted to bow to Tim. "Your chamber awaits," he intoned.

"...Boy, I can tell you're feeling better."

"To be honest, I want you to pass me out the pain pills almost as much as I want you to get some rest. This isn't as happy-go-lucky of a display as it might seem." The low throb that had started during their trek had evolved into stabbing agony, and while he knew he could handle it if need be he would prefer to numb it as much as feasible.

"Oh! Here..." The younger man hustled inside, rustled around for a moment, and then re-emerged with his pack in his hands. "I won't need the sleeping bag – it's too hot for that already – so I put it away. I thought you could use this as a bench in case you need to rest."

"Aw...good idea, Timmy. Here, let's put it right here," he pointed off to one side of the open flap. "This way I can watch the cooking area."

"Nice." He dropped the bag, then reached into his pocket. "Ibuprofen," he extended a bottle.

"Nectar of the gods!" Dick exclaimed. Lowering himself onto his seat, he shook out a double dose and washed it down with the water they'd gathered the day before. "Mmm...glad I don't have to take those dry."

"Ugh. Yeah," Tim agreed, throwing back a few pills of his own. "Not dying is nice, too."

"Yup." Their eyes met. "Go to bed, little brother."

"Let me borrow your watch. I only want to sleep for a couple of hours."

"...Aren't you worried that I'll slip in and turn the alarm off like you did to me?" he asked as he unfastened the clasp around his wrist. He wasn't positive that that was what Tim had done – it was possible that he'd just been allowed to sleep through it – but he knew the response he received would tell him one way or the other.

"No, because I'm going to put it in my pocket. There's no way you'll get to it without waking me."

Dick's jaw dropped. "So you _did_ shut it off on purpose!"

"Yeah, but I thought you said you weren't going to stew over it?"

"I..." He _had_ said that, but still. "Ooh, Timmy, when we get home...I swear I'm going to tie you to your bed and drug you so you sleep for _days_. You'll be so rested you won't know what to do with yourself."

"You're the _worst_ at threatening people, did you know that?" Tim smirked. "Besides, you'll have to battle Bruce to get to me. You know he's going to try and drug _both_ of us once he sees us."

"Yeah..." _Bruce...I'm sorry. We'll make it home somehow, so don't...don't worry, okay?_ _Please don't worry..._ It was a pointless plea, since he knew that the billionaire was already sure to be out of his mind with concern, but he made it anyway. "Anyway, go to sleep, huh? I'll call you if I see anything."

"If you're _sure_ you're okay..."

"I'm _positive,_ Timmy. Now go to bed so you don't turn the baddie to stone as soon as they see your face."

"…Man, do I really look Medusa-level bad?"

"Do I?"

"Well…you're getting there."

"Heh. Good, then we're keeping pace with each other. I wouldn't want to come out of this with the reputation of being the ugly brother."

"So you're going to drag me into that with you?! That's nice."

"Hey, at least then we could commiserate about being hideous."

"Or we could just have Bruce get us plastic surgery."

"We'd turn the surgeon to stone!"

"We have masks!"

"True. But the easiest thing would still be to avoid becoming medusas in the first place, so go to sleep already, would you?"

"…You know," Tim ventured, "it's been hours, and I haven't seen anything. I'll bet the bear won't even come back. You could probably lay down and get a little more rest with me without much risk."

Dick was shaking his head before his brother even finished his proposal. "Even if you're the new prairie-dog whisperer, I don't want to rely on them to tell us that there's a bear outside licking its chops. I don't particularly want to just roll the dice on it not coming back, either. I'm fine," he assured, "so go to bed, go to _sleep,_ and don't get up until that alarm starts beeping. Okay?"

It seemed that Tim had no further arguments, because he simply sighed and let his shoulders slump. "All right, mother," he rolled his eyes with a faint grin. "I'm going. Are you happy?"

"Yup," he smiled at him. "Sweet dreams, Timmy."

"Night."

The door zipped shut, and Dick was left perched on his makeshift bench. Surveying the grassland from his throne, he saw nothing concerning. The world was quiet save the occasional yip from the prairie-dog colony and the distant cry of a hawk. Tilting his head back, he scanned for the bird. _Poor guy, stuck under here with us_, he sympathized. _Don't fly too high and bump into the sky, friend; it's a long way down._

The previous night's clouds had cleared off, he noted, but there was an odd haze fuzzing the clarity of the atmosphere. ..._That's weird_. After a moment of puzzling he decided that he must be seeing the light refracting off of rain water that hadn't evaporated from atop the dome yet. With that settled and the bird nowhere in sight, he returned his gaze to ground level. He had more important things to do than meditate on force field physics, and such things were more Tim's department than his in any case. He would mention it when the younger man woke up, but in the meantime he needed to focus on getting his leg looser.

He heaved himself upward and leaned heavily on his walking stick. _Oof…so much for ibuprofen helping_. Nevertheless, he had to be ready when it came time to tackle the river bank. He began to limp his way along the track that had been beaten down during his brother's hours of watch, trying not to whimper in pain. _Gotta focus…focus on the goal, Grayson. Focus on the end result._

It was a sad but determined mantra that formed in his head and ran for the next two hours. _Got to walk home to Bruce_. He gasped for breath. _Got to walk home to Alfred_. A slight depression in the ground almost threw him off balance. _Got to walk home to Dami_. A fresh convulsion left him biting the insides of his cheeks. _Got to walk home…_


	32. Chapter 32

By the time his brother woke, Dick's leg was almost back to the condition it had been in right after the first earthquake. A single spot of blood had appeared on the outside of the bandage, at which Tim made a horrible face. There seemed to be no advantage to stripping it down here when he might very well bleed more on the trail, though, so in the end they opted to leave the wound alone until they camped again.

Things went quickly after that. Tim, who looked no better but said he felt sharper after his nap, focused on packing the tent. When that was done they moved warily towards where they had eaten the night before, both searching for signs of the bear as they went. They had a moment of fright when they discovered that the can containing their food wasn't where they'd left it, but a short search turned it up intact a few dozen yards away. Once they'd found it, Dick took up a position on his bag-bench and dipped into the lunch supplies to make something they could eat on the trail. When footsteps signaled Tim's returned from refilling their water bottles, he looked up.

"...You ready to do this, little brother?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess. You?"

"Ditto. Here," he held out a hastily-crafted tuna wrap. "Lunch."

They followed the shoreline towards the mountains as they ate. The drop-off to their right slowly trickled out to nothing, leaving them to walk along the edge of the lake itself. It had risen a few inches in the night, but at that rate it would take years to be a threat to them. Dick felt some of the vague apprehension his brother had gifted him with on that subject flee, and was grateful. They had enough to worry about without drowning being on the list.

"...Is this it?" he asked as they approached a wide channel that cut straight across their path.

"It looks like it, but the water's really low." Tim pointed at the narrow ribbon of liquid running down the middle of the muddy strip. "I guess that's all that's left."

"...Kind of kills our 'stick close to water' plan."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it's a mixture of what we were talking about yesterday."

Dick wrinkled his nose. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you can tell that there's usually a lot more water flowing through here. I mean, this riverbed is probably thirty feet across, but there's only maybe four or five feet actually covered right now. Clearly a major supply line has been cut off upstream. Damian made it sound like the barrier appeared within hours of the quake, though, so the only way there could still be this much water coming through is if there are at least a few decent sources inside the dome itself, feeding it. If that's the case, we should have water for at least part of the way. Make sense?"

"Makes sense to me," he nodded, smiling proudly as he reached out to ruffle the younger man's hair. "Smarty-pants."

Tim rolled his eyes, but the action couldn't cover the faint blush that had risen into his cheeks. "...Thanks."

The foliage along the bank was thin, but there was no reason for them to think that it would stay that way as the elevation rose and the gorge narrowed. As such they opted to stick to the river's usual course, which had dried enough to be firm underfoot and proved an admirable road. There was just the right amount of give left in the soil that Dick found it to be more comfortable to traverse than the grassland had been, and as a result he was able to pick up the pace a little. Before he could really get into his rhythm, though, he stopped dead. "Uh...Tim?"

"What's the matter?" came from the region of his elbow. Transfixed by what he'd nearly stepped on, he didn't look over. "...Oh," a weak sigh sounded as Tim followed his gaze. "That's...that's really big."

"Yeeeeah..." The half-hardened paw print before them was easily seven inches in width, and the claws at the end of each toe had left their own deep, ragged depressions. It had to be from the animal they'd fought off the night before, he was certain, and he shuddered. _If he had taken a swipe at either of us, would we even be standing here right now_? _Jesus... _"Take a picture," fell out of his mouth suddenly.

"...What?"

"I said, take a picture of it. I don't know why I want one, exactly, I just...it's something I want to remember, that's all."

"Do you _really_ think you're going to have trouble remembering being attacked by a bear in the middle of the night only to come across its massive footprint the next day?" Tim crossed his arms and stared at him. "Seriously, Dick, if that's something you're capable of forgetting then I envy you. Like, a _lot_."

"It's not so much that I think I'll forget as it is that I think I might have to convince myself that it wasn't a dream. I mean, this is all pretty surreal as it is, and we're not even to the baddie yet. Aren't you afraid you might question your memory once we're back in normalsville?"

"...Huh. Yeah, I...I guess I can see that. Well...okay, I'll take a picture of it," he agreed, shrugging his pack off. "Assuming that my camera wasn't broken between the earthquake, the mountain climbing, and last night's assault by the bear cavalry, that is."

It hadn't been, miraculously enough, and a minute later they were peering down at the review screen. "Think that will be enough to convince you in five or six years?" Tim asked.

Dick shivered again. Somehow the impression was even more chilling when viewed through the camera, which left him with no doubt that it hadn't all been a wild dual hallucination. "That should do it."

"Good. Then let's get out of here before the thing that made that mark decides to retrace his steps."

They carried on into the afternoon, keeping to the riverbed and watching constantly lest their toothy visitor surprise them around a bend. There was a definite upward tilt to their trail, but it was a hundred times easier to master than the steep, slippery sides of the hills they had clambered over two days before. Neither of them hesitated to draw from their water bottles now that they were near a fresh supply, and somewhere around two they had to stop for refills.

The light was beginning to fade, Dick noticed as he waited for his brother to cross the sticky ground between their trail and the stream, but it was still far too early. Tim seemed to sense that something was wrong, too, and turned his face towards the sky as he walked back. "Here," he handed a full bottle over absentmindedly. "...What do you think's going on up there?"

"I don't know," Dick shook his head. "It looked weird this morning, kind of misty, but I thought it was just the light refracting off of last night's rain. I meant to mention it to you when you got up, but..."

"There was a lot to do." He paused, peering upward. "...Dick, I have a horrible feeling I know what's going on."

"'A horrible feeling?'" He arched an eyebrow. "Why do I not like the sound of that?"

"Tell me if I'm being crazy, but...those kind of look like clouds, don't they?"

He studied the air overhead. "Well, yeah..." _But it looks like they're inside with us, and that's crazy..._

"It's logical," Tim breathed. "...Yeah. This...this makes sense. Think about it; there's a giant lake behind us, and a fair amount of flat plains, too, right?"

"Yeees...?" A ball of dread began to grow in the pit of his stomach as he watched his brother work things out.

"And everything ahead of us is higher elevation. Without pulling out the map I can't be certain, but I think some of the snow-capped peaks might even be inside with us. It was hot yesterday, and then that storm came through and cooled off the air at the top of the dome. The water couldn't get in, but that doesn't mean that the temperature difference between inside and out didn't have an effect. In a more-or-less closed system like this one, the convection rate..." He paled suddenly. "...The convection rate must be _intense_. This...this could be really bad."

"Wait, wait, wait," Dick slowed him. "Are you saying there's a rainstorm forming _underneath_ the force field?"

"That's...that's what I'm saying, yeah. And we're going to be in the worst of it, because we're right between the lake and the higher mountains. We're stuck in the drop zone."

"...Timmy, I love you, and I generally love how brilliant you are, but in this instance I sincerely hope that you're very, very wrong."

"I hope I am, too. We don't have time for rain."

They really didn't. Besides the fact that it would make the ground underfoot soggy and would soak them through, too, a rainstorm could easily swell the river. That wouldn't mean much for their passage at this point, but the course wasn't likely to stay this wide as they got deeper into the mountains. Even in its much-reduced state, the water could block their way, and they couldn't afford to lose any more time in backtracking.

_How many more quakes have been set off since ours?_ Dick wondered. _One a day? Two? More, even? _Damian hadn't mentioned any others, but there was no way of knowing if that had been because there was nothing to report or because there had been so many equally important things to tell. He wanted to believe that it had been the former, but he couldn't quite manage it. No baddie worth their salt would erect an impenetrable force field and then just sit on their hands; even the Joker wasn't that patient. Something had to have happened somewhere since the world had first shook beneath their feet, and innocent people were likely to be dead as a result. _It can't rain, not now,_ he pleaded silently. _Be wrong, Timmy. For once, be wrong. Please._

But Tim wasn't wrong. An hour later the semi-opaque fog above them had thickened and taken on an ugly gray coloration. Worse still, gusts of wind were beginning to echo down the river gorge, blowing dust into their eyes and sending a chill right through their summer-weight clothing. They stuck closer and closer together as day turned prematurely into twilight, terrified of losing one another in the rising maelstrom.

"I think we need to stop for the night!" Tim half-shouted after a particularly strong blast of air nearly knocked them over.

Dick nodded back, but he wasn't confident about their decision. He surveyed the abused landscape as best he could through the grainy air, and saw nowhere that they could set up camp. The nearer bank was polluted with the carcasses of fallen trees. Beyond the tangled greenery the land rose precipitously, plateauing off after some seventy feet at the base of a rolling hill whose crown was hidden by the low-hanging weather. Short of sleeping in the river bed, there was no place that was open enough to accept even their small tent.

Thanks to a small curve in the course of the waterway, the air calmed a bit once they'd stepped up onto the bank. It was a short-lived consolation, though, as they immediately had to begin climbing over downed trunks in order to progress inland. Tim went first, trying to find the easiest path over which to lead his brother. "I'm starting to think we should tie the cord back together," he commented eventually. "Or at least pull out the headlamps. I can't see clearly more than about ten feet in front of me."

"Same here. Turn around, I'll dig the lights out..."

"...That's better," Tim sighed a minute later. "What do you think? Carry on?"

"Hold on." Dick had scanned their surroundings anew the moment his lamp had clicked on, and now he narrowed his eyes at a dark spot near the base of the cliff they were approaching. "...Is that a cave?"

"Huh? Hey...you might be right."

"That's convenient."

"...You're not thinking of setting up camp in there?! What if there's another earthquake?"

"It's stood through how many now?" he countered. "Besides...do you see anywhere else to camp? Even if we found somewhere out here, between the wind and the rain that's probably-" a few drops hit the top of his head as if on cue "-no, _definitely_ coming open ground is going to be a less than comfortable, never mind less than safe, place to sleep."

Tim looked like he was wavering, but he launched one last argument. "The storm is going to be bad, but I still think that the risk from another aftershock-"

A deafening crack of thunder cut him off, and there was a flash of brightness as lightning transferred between the clouds overhead a second later. "...Is less than the combined risk of being struck by lightning, washed away, or blown to kingdom come?" Dick finished for him.

"...I hate nature," Tim opined matter-of-factly, grimacing. As soon as the words were out of his mouth the rain began in earnest. In moments they were both drenched.

"I think she heard you."

"Ugh...let's go. So long as we don't find the bear in there, I'm willing to risk the cave."

"All right, a cave!" He clapped his hands, trying to inject some false cheer into their situation. "...Hey, at least it's familiar territory, right? Maybe we'll dream that we're safely at home and just fell asleep over a file."

Tim smiled wistfully. "I hope so, Dick," he said, turning away to lead him towards the mark on the side of the mountain. "I really, really hope so."


	33. Chapter 33

It was only once they'd changed into dry clothes, spread out their supplies, and put a fragrant noodle mix on the stove to heat that Tim began to let some of his apprehension about sleeping in the cave go.

They had earned their shelter, that much was certain. While he had managed to scale the seven feet of sheer cliff face between the ground and the floor of the subterranean room without too much difficulty, Dick had struggled. After a few false starts he'd gotten to where Tim could grab hold and haul him in, and now he lay on the bed with his leg propped up on the food canister.

Glancing at him, the younger man grimaced. He was going to have to check his wound before they turned in for the night, and he wasn't looking forward to it. While no more blood had appeared on the bandages since morning, he was beginning to regret not stitching it up. To be fair to himself, he hadn't expected two and a half days to pass before they were rescued and taken to someone who could suture properly, but that wasn't the point. How long, he wondered, would a gash like that go before it started trying to close on its own? If it sealed up incorrectly, could it be fixed, or would his brother be stuck limping forever?

"What do you think, Timmy?" Dick's quiet voice broke into his mounting worry. "Home away from home?"

"...It's spacious, I'll give it that," he answered. They couldn't quite stand up in the space they'd found, but it was broad and deep enough that they might have erected the tent twice and still had a little room to spare. "And just about anything is better than trying to camp out in _that_," he added, jerking his thumb towards the entrance.

The storm had done nothing but pick up tempo since they'd slithered to safety. A gray, slanting sheet of water fell from the sky, obstructing their view of the narrow river valley outside. Fog rose as the cold precipitation hit the still-warm earth, further dampening their visibility. Occasionally the wind blew a spray of rain inside, but it couldn't reach them so long as they stayed near the back of the cave. All of that together, though, couldn't match the awful rumblings coming from the heavens, at least not in Tim's mind. The lightning seemed to have ceased, but the deafening _booms_ of thunder lingered, and he cringed as another one went off overhead.

A hand landed atop his own and gripped his fingers. "It's okay, Timmy," Dick soothed without opening his eyes. "It's just thunder."

"...I know," he ground out. "But I still hate it. I've _always_ hated it."

"I know. You told me. If it's any consolation, my irrational fear is-"

"Clowns," he cut him off nervously. "I remember."

"I said _irrational_ fear. A fear of clowns is perfectly normal and reasonable. No, my irrational fear is mounted animals."

"...What?" he asked, momentarily distracted from waiting for the next thunderous blast by the oddity of that statement. "Mounted animals? Seriously?"

"Seriously. I'm...I'm afraid they're going to come back to life and decide to wreak their revenge on humanity for killing them and putting them on display."

"Dick, you have got to be kidding me with that. 'Wreak their revenge on humanity'? They're stuffed animals!"

"Hey, there are a _lot_ of taxidermied things in the world," Dick said hotly. "If they all came back at once..." But Tim was snorting with laughter, and he trailed off. "...Yeah, you're right. It's something that could never, ever happen, and therefore it could never hurt me. But that's what makes it irrational. Thunder can't hurt you, but you're still afraid of it, right?"

"...Yeah," he sobered. "I am."

"Well...it's the same thing. So I'm just saying, don't be embarrassed if you wake up clinging to me like a limpet or something because a really bad burst goes off. So long as you don't mind me doing the same thing if we ever find ourselves in some creepy old house full of dead antelope, it's all good."

"Heh..." While he'd never thought that Dick would be ashamed of him if he did, in fact, wake up squeezing him like a teddy bear, it was nice to hear as much said out loud. "Well, we have to get out of here before we can find ourselves in a house full of stuffed animals, so..."

"We'll get out. We have to."

There was a note of concern in the other man's voice, and it was no trick to guess the cause of it. "...Bruce?" he guessed.

"Yeah. Bruce."

"Mmm..." Would anyone be safe if Batman lost two Robins in one go? He doubted it, but he didn't want to dwell on the subject. "Hungry? I think this is about ready."

Dick cracked an eyelid and shot him a knowing look, but he let the topic lie. "Starving. Dish me some out, would you?"

They ate without talking, exhaustion weighing them down. Tim nearly painted the ceiling with his soup each time a fresh roar rolled through the clouds, and ended up eating as fast he could to keep from spilling involuntarily. Washing up was simple, requiring only that they hold their cups and spoons out into the rain long enough for a good rinse. He was packing away their utensils when Dick gave a yawn. "Oh, man...bed time. You ready?"

"No," he said firmly. "I need to look at your leg."

"It's fine, Timmy. Look, it didn't even bleed any more today. Let's just leave it for tonight, huh?"

"No way. I meant to check it before bed _last_ night, and it didn't happen. Then I was going to do it this morning, and I didn't because we were in a hurry. I'm _not_ going to bed until I've seen it."

"What about the smell? Screwing around with it could draw our bear – or a different one, even – right to us. I don't think we're too high up here for a really determined one to get in. If that happens...if that happens, we're done."

"I know," he allowed. "But we've already cooked in here, so there's going to be a scent issue anyway. Besides, there's no evidence of anything having used this cave before, and if the bears could get into it I would think it would be perfect as a den. It's like you said when I didn't want to come into the cave; you have to weigh the risks. Frankly, the chance of you getting sick because I haven't been taking care of your leg right is way higher than a bear not only smelling us through the rain but then tracking us and climbing up here. So don't make me wrestle you into medical exam mode like we have to at home, okay?"

Dick chuckled. "...Okay, little brother," he agreed as he rolled onto his stomach. "Examine away."

It didn't look half as bad as he'd expected it to. Despite the foreign object he had pulled out of it, the rough-edged slash was only slightly reddened, and was no more inflamed than seemed normal for such an injury. In the end he simply wiped it with some antibacterial gel and called it good. "I wish I had replacements for these," he lamented, turning the bandages in search of the cleanest spot. "Or that I could at least wash them."

"Hang them out in the rain for a minute."

"They'll never dry out before morning. Besides, you can't sleep with it unwrapped." There was no telling what kind of grime had gotten into the lining of their sleeping bag since the start of the trip, and he didn't want to risk something working its way into the cut and causing an infection. _If you get sick before we get out from under this force field, you're dead, Dick,_ he thought, gulping. _No way are we going there._

In the end he just put down one of their few remaining pieces of gauze and wrapped the least-dirty section of bandage over top of it. "That's going to have to do it," he sighed. "I'm sorry it's not better."

"It's not your fault, Timmy. You've only got so much to work with."

"I know, but..." _But that's not the point. _

"Hey...about morning?"

"What about it?"

"What are we going to do if it's still raining?"

"We'll..." It was a hell of a question. As much as he would have liked to just sleep a rainy day away and recover some of their strength, they had neither the supplies nor the time to do so. On the other hand, it would be borderline impossible to make any meaningful progress if they had to traipse through mud or climb over fallen forests because the river was up. Plus, they were unlikely to find anywhere half as comfortable as this place was, even with the ever-present threat of collapse, and the longer they stayed warm and dry the better.

"It's just that I keep thinking about everywhere else," Dick told him before he could answer. "I mean...there must have been other quakes by now, you know? And if there are...if this person, or people, or whatever, is still going...how many people die for every hour that we delay? We have to stop to eat and sleep, I get that, but...we can't lose any more time than is absolutely necessary. Alfred would have a fit if he knew that we were even considering going into the veritable hurricane that's blowing out there, but what else can we do?"

"I..." He was torn. They needed to stay as safe and healthy as possible in order to do their job, but they couldn't preserve their own well-beings at the cost of hundreds, thousands, or even millions of lives. Then again, if the whole world was hanging in the balance...

It was too much to think about on only two hours of rest and with a full day of exertion behind him. "Let's deal with that in the morning, can we? We might wake up and find that the rain's stopped and there's nothing to think about, so why bust our brains trying to figure out what we'll do if that's not the case?"

"...Now I _know_ you're wiped out, little brother," Dick smiled sadly. "When the planner doesn't want to plan...that's a sure sign, every time."

Tim ducked his head. "I'm sorry, I just...I just _can't_ right now..."

"Hey...it's okay. You're tired, I'm tired...let's just have a cookie and go to bed, huh?"

"Cookies?" With everything that had happened in the thirty-six hours since they'd discovered what Alfred's surprise was, he had forgotten they had sugar left. Reminded of their stash, his mood brightened. "That sounds amazing."

Despite being almost a week old and half crumbled from its long journey, it was still the best cookie he'd ever tasted. If he closed his eyes he could almost pretend he was sitting in the manor's kitchen after a long, rainy patrol. _I'll finish this,_ he told himself,_ and then just go upstairs to my bedroom...crawl under the blanket...put my head down on those thick pillows Alfred know I like...sleep for hoooooours..._

The last bit of baked good slid down his throat, and his daydream faded away. "Mmm...god, I needed that," he sighed. For all that it had been brief, the momentary mental escape had fanned a tiny, weakening flame deep within him. So long as they had cookies to look forward to before bed, he mused, they could keep going. So long as there were cookies, there was hope.

"Me, too. Thank you, Alfred. And look..." Stretching, Dick reached into the pocket of the torn, bloodied, and still-soaked pants he'd been wearing until an hour earlier. A slip of paper came out with his hand, clearly damp but not ruined. "We've even still got his letter. I saved it."

_Of course you did. _"Read it, would you?"

"You bet."

He tidied up the few things that were still out as his brother's voice filled the cave. Dick lined out the butler's message slowly, as if he was savoring each word. Tim didn't complain, and by the time the short missive reached its conclusion he was sliding under the sleeping bag. His headlamp and their second can of bear spray went just above his head, and this time, he swore to himself, he wouldn't forget where he'd put them in an emergency. "...Dick?" he whispered just before the other man's light blacked out.

"Hmm?"

"...Read that last part again? Please?"

"Sure, Timmy. Let's see...'be safe, make good memories together, and keep yourselves hydrated and fed. I shall know if you fail on that last point.'"

"Mm...d'you think he knows?"

"I think he knows we're missing. By now he probably knows that Damian saw us. Other than that...well, we're hydrated and fed, aren't we? Besides, Alfred won't give up on us. Especially," a gentle laugh sounded, "if he thinks we still have cookies. Cookies make everything better."

It was so close to what he had just thought himself that he almost commented on it. The loudest _crack_ of thunder they'd heard in some time went off before he could, though, and he let it go. It was strange, he pondered as the cave went dark and the older man's arm was draped across his middle, but the storm wasn't so scary when there was someone who understood his fear beside him. "...Dick?" he ventured once more.

"Mm...hmm?"

"Um...how much shit do you think I'd have to take from Damian if I started sleeping in your room every time there's a thunder storm?"

"Heheh...I don't think you'd have to take much, Timmy. You'd just have to be willing to share the bed with me _and_ him."

"Wait..." He opened his eyes, needing to have his curiosity sated before he slept. "He's afraid of it, too?"

"He's from a desert, little brother. Thunder's not exactly something he grew up with. At least now he comes to me; I didn't know he was scared of it until I found him curled up in his closet and trying not to cry summer before last. Poor kid tried to make an excuse, but...it terrifies him as much as it does you. More, maybe. So come on in next time. You'll be in good company, and I've got two arms, so you won't even have to fight for cuddles."

"Huh." _Damian, frightened of thunder,_ he marveled as he let his eyelids fall shut again. _Imagine that._ Maybe he and the kid weren't so far apart, after all...

* * *

**Author's Note: It's been a while since we had a blog post, but if you check it out today you'll find a neat, easy-to-do experiment that gives a very basic idea of how clouds can form in a semi-closed system like under the force field. Also, I've started a twitter account, which you can find details on at the blog. Happy reading! **


	34. Chapter 34

They awoke to find the world calm after its violent scrubbing by the storm. Feeling better rested and more confident with a full night's sleep under their belts, they ate a quick breakfast, packed up, and slipped out of their hideaway before the sun could fully peek over the mountains. Today, they told one another several times, they would put away some serious miles.

Despite their determination, they started off slow. The ruined forest that stood between them and the river took time to traverse, and the fact that Dick's leg had stiffened up again didn't help their pace. It had improved by the time they reached the waterway, but Tim still found himself having to slow his steps in order to allow his brother to keep up. Lingering close to his side, he couldn't help but wonder how the older man was going to challenge a villain when it took him several hours each day just to manage proper movement. All he could hope was that adrenalin would prove as effective then as it had during the bear attack; if it didn't, they were going to be in trouble.

Thinking about the adversary they were heading towards caused a vexing question to rise to the top of his mind. "...Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"Does it seem weird to you that we haven't seen anyone else out here?"

Dick shot him a sideways look. "What do you mean?"

"Well, if there's someone under the dome with us, where's their support? We can't be more than eight or nine miles out from that tower that Damian mentioned, and you know that the Batplane's probably been hanging around, so why aren't more steps being taken to make sure that there's no one inside who could oppose them?" There were only two good ways of reaching the falls, at least according to the map, and they had been on them both in the days since the quake. How was it possible that there was no defense along either route?

"...Maybe we're still too far out," a suggestion was made. "We were what, five miles away when we turned back before?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"And we're more than that away now."

"Right."

"So maybe they've got their forces concentrated around wherever they're working from. I mean, they can't have gotten _too_ many henchmen in here without anyone noticing. There are only a certain number of people each year who get permits to go back to the falls, and when I was setting this whole thing up the park said that they're really careful about making sure everyone makes it back to base okay at the end of their trip. They'd have noticed a bunch of people who went out and didn't come back. It would make sense for the baddies to keep what little help they have close to home. Besides, they might figure that anyone who was hiking in the area was either killed in the quake or has no way of knowing what's going on." A grin flitted across his features. "They sure as heck aren't expecting _us _to show up on their doorstep."

"...I guess that makes sense," Tim allowed. The explanation didn't completely quell the uncertainty bubbling in his stomach, but it at least put a lid on it. Shortly after their conversation ended Dick began to speed up, his wounded calf having finally loosened enough to be used somewhat normally, and he had no more time to dwell on what lay ahead of them. Trying to pick their way upstream required all of his attention; they'd just have to play the future by ear.

By late morning the broad banks and steep but surmountable hills that had flanked them the day before were long gone. In their place stood thin traces of scrub-covered soil that backed up against vertical walls, the remnants of many millennia of erosion. The river bed itself narrowed to a mere ten or twelve feet in width, the middle third of which was occupied by swift-flowing water. Shortly after that they started to come across the feeder streams that Tim had predicted, and every time they crossed one the main current became noticeably smaller. Wary lest they soon find themselves walking along a completely dry course, they began to refill their bottles at each intersection, exchanging grimmer and grimmer looks.

Their path became steeper as it tapered, forcing them to pant for breath. It was nothing compared to the scrambles they had completed before the earthquake, but in their wounded and weakened states the grade was enough to drain them of what little energy they had. They began to take more and more frequent breaks, dropping to the ground with groans at each stop and leaning back-to-back so that neither had to lay on the coarse, damp sand. It was during one such pause that Dick pointed vaguely upward and said a single word. "Sheep."

Tim opened his eyes and frowned. "...Heh?"

"I said, sheep."

Craning his neck, he managed to look over his brother's shoulder. "Where?"

"Up there, on the rocks. See them?"

"...Hold on." He scooted around until he was facing the right direction. "Oh..." There they were, several whitish blobs making their way slowly down the face of the nearest mountain. "Huh."

"Kinda cool. They must be coming for a drink or something."

"...They'd better hurry up," he remarked, pointing upstream. "It looks like there's another storm building."

Sure enough, the vague mist that had been hovering far overhead almost since they'd set out was quickly descending. It thickened as it fell, giving the air the same grainy quality it had possessed just before the wind and rain had come the day before. Knowing what they were in for offered no relief, for here there were no caves in which to hide. When the weather came they were going to be as exposed to it as the short line of sheep walking along the naked, impassable cliff above.

"You thinking we should pull off? Try to set up camp before it starts up?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "but..." _But where?_ he pleaded. The animals at least had their thick hair coats to keep them warm and dry; he and Dick would be lucky if they could find a place to bed down. There was nowhere even remotely sheltered within sight, and the wind was likely to be worse tonight than last thanks to the high-sided canyon they'd ventured into. The tent would surely be whipped away in an instant in such an exposed setting.

"We could backtrack," Dick proposed, seeming to read his worry.

"What do you mean?"

"Well...there was a little nook off to the side, back where that last creek came in. It's not much, but it looked like it would be big enough for the tent. I think there was a little rise separating it from the main valley here, too, so that should cut down on the breeze."

Tim glanced over his shoulder, measuring the distance they'd come since their last ford. "What is that, a half mile?"

"About that, I think."

He sighed. _We need to move forward, not backward, _he grimaced. There was no telling what they would find for shelter up ahead, though, and if they forged onward they'd be walking into the storm rather than away from it. Besides, the last thing he wanted to do was get caught out in a thunder symphony like the one they'd barely escaped the night before. "...Alright. Let's do it."

"You're sure?"

"Not much choice. We'll end up plastered against the force field like bugs on a windshield if we don't get out of the way of what's coming. If we're going to die on this trip, I'd rather it was in a slightly nobler fashion than that preferred by millions of insects each year."

Dick chuckled. "Agreed. Shall we?"

"No time to waste."

There really wasn't. It took them less than an hour to retreat to the small outcrop Dick had seen and set up camp, but they had barely finished when the rain started in earnest. To Tim's relief there was no thunder, and as a result he was able to sit a hundred yards from the tent and work on dinner much longer than he might have managed otherwise. Eventually the combination of wind and water shut the stove off, overriding his determination and forcing him to call it quits. "Sorry," he apologized as he ducked inside, dripping everywhere. "It's not really done, but..."

"Jesus, Timmy, you're soaked! Here..." Dick traded him a towel for the pot. "Dry off before you catch pneumonia. Don't worry about dinner; it's done enough."

They ate directly from the container, wincing as their teeth crunched over half-cooked rice. When they'd scooped up the last few grains with their fingers, Tim braved the storm long enough to put the dish just out of sight of their sleeping quarters. It was all the bear defense that they could muster until and unless one came into the tent after them. A drizzle of rain ran down the inside of his jacket as he turned back, and he shivered; would the pepper spray even work in such wet conditions? He didn't see how it could...

Fortunately there was no chance for them to find out that night. They lay close together, cold in spite of their shared body heat and the clothes they had piled on top of the sleeping bag, and whispered through half of the dark hours. When he finally drifted off Tim slept fitfully, his ears straining to hear movement outside and his dreams haunted by vague, threatening shadows. Dick seemed to have issues with slumber as well, and gave out tiny groans of pain and fear that only quieted when he offered a reassuring hum and pressed himself closer.

He left his brother alone under the covers shortly after the patter of droplets ceased. There was gray light filtering in, and he thought he might see how much the creek had risen in the night. As soon as he stepped outside, however, he froze. "Uhhh...Dick?"

"Mmph...five more minutes, Alfred..."

"Dick, seriously. Wake up."

"What...ugh...hey...Timmy?!"

"Right here. Take a look at this, would you?"

There was an odd dragging sound, and a moment later Dick's head appeared beside Tim's knee. "What...oh, hey. We've got visitors."

"Yeah. Visitors." They had evidently chosen a prime location in which to set up camp, for they had not only survived the wind and rain in it but they had also acquired neighbors. "Problem is, we're not shepherds," he remarked as he gazed at the bedraggled creatures laying a few dozen feet away. "So what the hell do we do with a bunch of sheep?"

"Um...hope that one of them wants to give me a lift the rest of the way to the falls?"

"What..." He glanced downward and took in the embarrassed look on his brother's face. "Oh, no. Your leg?"

"Stiff as a freaking board. I think it was the cold that did it."

_Well, that explains_ _why it sounded like you were crawling to get to me,_ he groused silently. "Do you think it will loosen up once we get going?"

"We'd better hope so. I'm not exactly a pro at riding sheep bareback, you know?"

"Yeah. The problem is, how do we move around these guys?" Several of the animals had raised their heads and were staring at him while they chewed their cud. "Being headbutted by a wild sheep isn't exactly on my bucket list."

"...I think the answer is that we go back to sleep."

"But-"

"But _what_, Tim? They've got us surrounded. As peaceful as they're being now, that's no guarantee of what they'll do if we try to break down camp in the middle of them. Besides, it's early, neither of us slept well, and we'll hear them react if anything dangerous tries to come in close. So...I vote for sleep."

There was no argument he could come up with against any of those points, so he didn't object. "Okay. You win. We sleep."

"Good. Now come back inside, would you? I think you're making them nervous..."

He didn't know whether it was simple exhaustion that let him pass out almost as soon as his head hit its makeshift pillow or something to do with having an ovine honor guard, but by the time he woke up several hours later he didn't really care. What mattered was that he'd gotten some rest and, he found when he unzipped the door, that their 'visitors' had crossed to the far side of the river. On top of that, the sky was clearer than he'd seen it in two days, and that alone was such good news that he found he could overlook the cold wind still blowing down through the canyon.

Dick stumbled in circles in an attempt to warm up his useless leg while Tim focused on packing up camp. He had just finished tucking their clothes and the sleeping bag away when panicked cries erupted from the distant sheep. _Not the bear,_ he begged as his hand flew to the can hanging from his waist. _Please, not the damned bear..._

What had actually set the creatures off was almost worse. Before he could do anything more than straighten up, the earth shifted under his shoes. "Shit!" he shouted as he lost his footing and fell. "Get away from the cliffs!" he directed at Dick. "Go towards the water!"

They met halfway, groping out for each other as they tripped their way across the rolling, clattering gravel that lined the feeder creek. Something hit the ground with a mighty _crunch_ behind them, but neither looked back. All they could do was trying not to be separated as they were pitched forward into icy, ankle-deep water.

The world trembled to a stop just as their socks soaked through. For a second they merely stood, leaning together and waiting to see if it would start again. When it didn't, they exchanged a weary glance. "...You okay?" they asked at the same time.

They almost laughed, but nothing was quite as funny as it had been even two days before. "...I'm okay," Dick nodded. "Dropped my stick somewhere, though."

"We'll find it," Tim sighed. "We'd better, at least. I haven't seen a tree your height since yesterday morning." Wrapping his arm around the older man's waist, he helped him hobble back in search of his crutch. They found it halfway between the water and the tent, but before either could bend to pick it up something much more dire caught their attention.

"...Oh, shit," Dick breathed, his voice shocked. "That's...that's bad."

"Bad? We're _screwed_," Tim answered, stunned. Not even the bright sun above was enough to brighten the scene before them. _It's going to storm again this afternoon,_ he gulped. In such a small, dynamic area as the one that was enclosed by the force field, more extreme weather was all but guaranteed. Clear skies or none, another atmospheric cataclysm was already building_, _and with the rain would come the wind and the cold. It was a dangerous trio that was fully capable of sucking the life out of them before they ever saw the villain they were chasing, and now... _And now we have no shelter,_ he panicked as he stared at the massive boulder that had pancaked their tent. _Now we're halfway to dead..._


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's Note: I received a request from a couple of readers for a glimpse at how Alfred's handling everything that's going on. We have a chapter from his POV today, and will jump back to Dick and Tim tomorrow. Happy reading!**

* * *

"Batman to base."

Alfred started in his chair. "Bloody hell," he murmured, scrubbing a hand down his face. He hadn't meant to doze off, but when he considered the high amount of stress he'd been under ever since Mr. Kent had walked into the kitchen wearing an exceedingly somber look some thirty-six hours earlier he wasn't surprised. Fumbling for the radio, he brought it to his lips. "Have you news, sir?"

"Yes. Good and bad."

"Go on, then," he urged, leaning forward.

"Robin located them and spoke with them before my arrival."

"Did he indeed?! That's marvelous." Slumping backwards, he gave a great sigh of relief. _And to think that I was mad at the scalawag for stealing the Batplane and sneaking out. If he hadn't been there when they were, contact might never have been made..._ Something in Batman's voice cooled his joy, however, and by the time he'd worked up the courage to ask what the bad news was he was frowning.

"I was unable to either see or communicate with them," a grim reply came.

"...I don't understand," he shook his head. A dozen horrid images flashed behind his eyes. Perhaps an aftershock had opened a gaping maw in the earth below his trapped charges' feet and sucked them down into oblivion, he shuddered. Maybe something or someone had come along and dragged them away while the youngest of the trio had been standing helplessly on the far side of the barrier. Or worse still... "They didn't go off after the responsible party, sir," he begged hollowly. "Tell me they weren't so foolish as that."

"I wish I could. But you hate it when I lie to you."

He shut his eyes tightly. _Damn it, children,_ he swore. _Why must you be so admirably, stupidly valiant as you are? I would blame your father if I didn't know full well that I'd done my fair share to encourage you in your bravery..._ "Do you at least know where they're headed? Can you track them?"

"I know where they're going, but I can't track them unless we make visual contact again." A beat passed. "...They're hurt. Both of them."

He both did and did not want to know the specifics of their injuries. Only the thought that he would be somewhat prepared to treat them when they were finally delivered back into his hands was enough to push him into querying further. "Did Master Robin give you details?"

"Nightwing's on a crutch and might have a concussion. Red Robin's in better shape, but his knees are scraped to the bone." A shaky breath was released on the other end of the line, fuzzing the connection for a moment. "...I don't know how they'll be able to do it. God help me for saying it, but...I just don't know how."

Alfred's brows drew together. "They've managed missions while laboring under far worse injuries in the past, sir," he reminded.

"Yeah, but they didn't have to climb half a mountain range just to get to the villain any of those times," came back immediately. "And this place...there are still aftershocks going on. Big ones. Every time I look down at the earth there's a new fissure, or another rock slide, or _something_. Don't get me wrong, if anyone can do this it's the two of them, but that's the problem."

"...Sir?"

"I don't think anyone _can _do it_._ I hope I'm wrong, but...not even the cowl can stop the fear this time. It's bleeding through..."

"I take it that you are alone at the moment?" Even if the filter of the cowl had lost some of its effectiveness under the onslaught of parental terror he knew was stalking its wearer, Batman would never speak so frankly unless there was no one nearby to overhear. Since the only two people who were exceptions to that rule were the reason he was in such a tizzy to start with, it was a safe bet that he had locked himself in the cockpit.

"Yes. Robin and Flash are both passed out in the passenger section."

"Well, that's no surprise. The boy can't have gotten much sleep last night, and I'm sure Flash didn't either."

"He was on the task force. He didn't get any." An aggravated puff of air came through. "I envy them."

"Insomnia, sir?"

"Something like that."

"You must have something you can do to pass the time?" Action, any action, was sure to take Bruce's mind temporarily off of his worry. It would be far from a permanent fix, but at least it would lend him a few moments of relief.

"I've done everything I can think of," he received a stony reply. "Whoever invented this force field...I'd like to pick their brain. There's no way through it short of us figuring out how to turn ourselves into sunlight and then reassemble on the other side."

"Hmm..." There was nothing he could really say to that, but he couldn't help being impressed. Anyone who could come up with something capable of stumping the entire coterie of heroes that his charges associated with was worthy of respect. "What about the earthquakes?" he tried to nudge the other man's train of thought onto a parallel track in the hopes that it ran a bit further before petering out. "Any idea yet how those are being manufactured?"

"I have no clue. Superman has crews on the ground in the populated areas that were affected by this quake, and he's dispatched plenty of people to the latest epicenter on the India-Pakistan border, but no one's come back with anything useful."

"How are you planning to fill the time, then?" It was a far more important question than it sounded, for Alfred knew that even with company Batman would drive himself half-insane if he had nothing to do but hover above the barrier keeping him from his damaged children. _You must keep yourself occupied somehow,_ he grimaced. _If fear is slipping around the cowl already, I quiver to think what sort of state you'll be in after another day or two._

"...I've been watching the video."

"The video, sir?"

"Of them. One of the plane's external cameras picked up part of their conversation with Robin, and...and I've been watching it. Probably too much, but..."

"I understand the allure of such a film, sir," he said, trying to keep his voice both firm and gentle at the same time, "but you cannot let yourself waste away in front of it."

"I know. That's...that's partially why I called, was to force myself to take a break. We were looking for them under magnification until it started getting dark, and it was better then, but now...I don't want to shine a spotlight down there. If whoever they're going to have to take on is paying any attention at all, they're sure to notice it. I don't want to risk giving away their position."

"Of course." _Sleep, Bruce,_ he pleaded. _You need to sleep. _He could hear the exhaustion in his voice now that he was speaking almost normally, and knew that a night spent staring at a screen was _not_ the proper cure. "If I may advise you; get some rest. Wake one of the others, or see if Superman can spare a few hours of his time to monitor the situation from the plane, and then take a sleeping pill and go to sleep. Even if it isn't good sleep," he hurried on before an objection could be launched, "you'll be that much closer to dawn when you wake."

A rumble sounded. "...I suppose you have a point. But-"

"But nothing," Alfred shook his head at the radio. "What good will you be to them if the force field drops in the morning and you're too tired to do anything about it? And to allay temptation," he added, "send that video to me."

"What?"

"Send the video of them to me, and then delete it from the plane's archives. I will keep it safe here, and can always send it back to you later if you need it for analysis, but it won't be available for you to get stuck on it. Do you see my reasoning?"

"Yes, but-"

"Do you want Master Robin to see it and become obsessed as well?" That argument would be enough, he was sure; invoking the well-being of one of the children was almost always a guaranteed conversation-ender.

"...No. No, he's already blaming himself enough for all of this."

"What on earth for?" _As if Master Damian hasn't enough to worry about already, with his brothers missing and a madman on the loose…_

"It's a long story, but...well, you know how they are. Him and Nightwing."

"Hmm...yes, but...well, I suppose it doesn't matter at the moment, unless you need my assistance with that problem as well?"

"No, I think I managed that one on my own."

"Very good," he nodded, pleased. The pair of them desperately needed to make some sort of connection, and had been fretting over it for months, but hadn't been able to come up with an adequate solution. As awful as it was, perhaps Batman and Robin's shared concern over their missing family members was exactly the right thing to bridge the distance between them. "I'm glad to hear it."

The computer before him gave a short _plink_. "...There's the video," Batman informed him. "I'm...deleting it...now."

"Good decision, sir."

"I hope you're right."

There was a moment of silence. "Would you like me to call Superman for you?" Alfred offered eventually. "It's no problem. I'm sure he won't mind standing watch for a few hours."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows, with the way he's treating this whole thing?"

"I think we both know that he hopes for their safe return just as much as you and I do," he chastised. "I'll call him, shall I?"

"...Fine. Call him. At least dealing with him will give me something to do."

The last comment was so bitter that the butler winced. _I really don't know that Mister Kent deserves such ire, my boy,_ he thought. _He has his own way of doing things, yes, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't care. _He couldn't say as much without upsetting his charge, however, so he kept his opinion to himself. "I'll wish you goodnight then, sir."

"Right. Batman out."

He sighed as the call dropped. _Irascible child. And you wonder where Master Damian gets it..._ Setting down the radio handset, he moved over one seat and picked up the phone. It took a bit of transferring for him to reach the right line at the Watchtower, but eventually there was another familiar voice in his ear. "Superman? I imagine you know who this is."

"Yes. What's going on? Has Batman found something?"

"No," he answered drily. "I'm afraid that's the problem." It took only a minute to give the Kryptonian a run-down on the situation at the force field, and as he went on he could practically hear the tension mounting on the other end of the connection. "I think he could do with a bit of sleep, to be honest," he wrapped up, "but the others haven't had anything close to their fair share of rest yet. I know you're terribly busy, but is there any way that you could...?"

"I'll see what I can do. It's calmed down a bit since we got the teams out to the second site, so I should be able to leave for a few hours."

"Thank you." He hesitated. "Since he's extremely unlikely to say this himself, I'll say it for him; he will appreciate your presence. I know he has Master Robin and Flash with him, but I daresay he could do with talking to someone who views Masters Nightwing and Red Robin from a more parental vantage than a fraternal one. It's just a hunch on my part, of course, but there you have it."

"...He's not cracking up up there, is he?"

"Not yet, sir. Not yet." _But soon, perhaps,_ he couldn't stand to say.

"Right. Okay. I'll, ah...I'll do whatever needs done, then. Thanks for the heads up."

"Not at all. Thank you for going to him when I cannot."

"No problem. See you soon, Agent A."

"I sincerely hope so, Superman. Goodbye."

He had performed some service for his charges, at least, he tried to encourage his own drooping spirits as he hung up the phone. It was a small one, but sometimes the little details were what made the difference. The only problem with having finished his miniscule task was that he was now in the same boat – or the same plane, if he wanted to be cheeky about things – as Batman, and had nothing more to do. He could clean, he supposed, but to what purpose? Freshly scrubbed floors would do nothing to help his distant charges. Besides, cleaning was the last thing he wanted to do. What he _really_ wanted...

Tearing his eyes from the monitor that had announced an incoming email a few minutes before, he shook his head. _No. Don't fall into the same trap that Bruce did. If you watch that video, you're no more likely to be able to stop easily than he was._ He could hardly send it back to the plane for safekeeping if he found himself ensnared by it, after all. It was best not to take the chance.

Still, though...one viewing, just _one_, might be useful. If it gave him a better idea of the sorts of injuries the boys would be coming home with – and they _would_ come home, he refused to give up hope on that front no matter how doubtful the rest of the world sounded about it – then it was worth the risk. After he watched it just once, he promised himself as he turned on the screen and pulled up the message, he would go back to the medical bay and make sure he had all of the supplies he was going to need in order to patch them up. Just one viewing...

Then the boys appeared before him, and before he knew it many hours had passed.


	36. Chapter 36

"...Well," Dick said slowly, still staring at the trace of their tent that was visible beneath the fallen boulder, "what do you think?"

Tim snorted beside him. "I think we're shit out of luck. That's what I think."

"What do you figure we have left? Five miles?"

"Somewhere around that. Maybe a little less; once we got warmed up yesterday we were going at a pretty good clip. But I don't know how much worse the terrain's going to get between here and the falls, so..."

"So five miles might take us five days," he finished the thought.

"Right."

It was his own fault. If his leg wasn't so stiff in the mornings they would be able to move much more quickly, and minor obstacles wouldn't pose nearly so much of a problem. There wasn't much he could do about it other than limp along to the best of his ability, but that didn't feel like enough. Something more was needed, some higher level of determination. "...I think we're going to have to push it, Timmy," he proposed.

"What do you mean? You can only go so fast, Dick. It's okay, it's not your fault, but don't hurt yourself worse by trying to do too much."

Tim was looking at him with narrowed eyes, and Dick knew that what he was about to propose wasn't going to be met with rousing approval. "Look, we don't have any shelter, right?"

"Right..."

"And we're hypothetically within striking distance of whoever's doing this."

"Hypothetically, yes."

"So let's strike." He paused. "I vote that we go until we either get there or until we're so exhausted that we're forced to stop despite not having a tent."

"That's foolhardy," came back immediately.

"I know. But do you have a better idea?"

Tim turned his head away, his mouth tight. "...No. Not unless we pass another cave like the one from night before last."

"And if we do, I'll be the first to cheer and say let's stop," Dick agreed. "If we _don't_ find a cave, though, at least the sky looks clearer than it has since we left the lake. Maybe it won't rain later and we'll get to stay dry while we walk."

"I wouldn't hold your breath for that. We're in a more-or-less closed system of relatively small proportions; if it doesn't rain this afternoon, it will be a miracle."

"I'll just keep my fingers crossed, then. It's hard to hike when you're holding your breath." He looked down. "It's also hard to hike without a crutch. Would you...?"

"Yup." Tim slipped one foot under the stick and tossed it expertly upwards. Dick snagged it out of the air, then squeezed his brother in a tight one-armed hug before releasing him.

"...We'll be okay, little brother," he promised, his voice carrying more confidence than he truly felt. "We're almost there now. We can do this. Hey, think of it this way," he tried to smile, "at least we weren't still _in _the tent when the rock hit it!"

The younger man gaped at him for a long second, then shook his head. "Dick..."

"Yeees?" he pressed.

"...If my superpower is communicating with prairie dogs, then yours has to be finding a silver lining to everything. Even your apocalypses aren't _all_ doom and gloom."

"It's a gift," he shrugged, now smirking. "Now should we get going, or what?"

"...Yeah. If we're going to do this, then let's...let's do it."

The sheep, they noticed once they'd stepped out onto the main river bed, were heading downstream. Dick supposed that it was a sensible way to keep themselves from being shaken off of the mountainsides, but he couldn't help but wonder how the animals would escape their old friend the bear if they met him on flat ground. _Good luck,_ he sent a silent adieu to the hooved wanderers as he and Tim turned in the other direction. _Wish us some, too, would you?_

They walked, and they walked, and they walked some more. He pushed himself as fast as his leg would allow him to, but it was clear that he was holding his brother up. They couldn't separate, though, even if Tim could probably have gotten to their destination and taken care of the villain by now without him. Without knowing what was ahead, and after everything that had happened, they had to stick together. Anything else was insupportable.

To their surprise the canyon didn't narrow any further. The water running down the middle of it, however, _did_ begin to grow scarcer as they climbed, and that was a problem. Although the stream had been shrinking with each tributary that they passed over, they hadn't yet seen it quite as small as it was when they finally took ten minutes to refill their bottles and make a quick lunch. Dick could read the dire nature of the situation in his brother's face when the younger man returned from the water's edge. "...What's up?"

"It's so shallow I can barely get anything without picking up sand, too. Look." He held up one of the containers to show off the thin layer of silty mud that was settling at the bottom. "You can't even rinse it out. There's not enough water in the river to swish around to collect all the particles off of the sides. Trust me, I tried. And filling up completely is a joke." The second bottle proved to be only half-full when he raised it next. "I had to use this one to fill the other one all the way. I purified it all, but it's going to be gritty, and we're stuck with only seventy-five percent of our total carrying capacity."

"And this is probably our last fill up before the falls," he sighed. "Okay. We're just going to have to make it work."

"I know, but..."

Tim didn't have to go on for Dick to understand his hesitation. "Look, I didn't particularly enjoy being dehydrated either," he commiserated. "But think of it this way; now we have a reason to _want_ it to rain later."

A harsh laugh tore from the younger man's throat. "Yes, yes we do," he concurred. "You're crazy, but you're right. Let's just hope it starts before we get too thirsty..."

But Tim's weather predictions began to look more and more off-base the longer they climbed. Although it wasn't nearly as hot at elevation as it had been on the plains down below, they were still working up a fair sweat, and that lost moisture needed replenished. The only way to preserve the liquid they'd already taken in would be to slow, but if they slowed then their meager reservoirs would have to stretch even longer. Now that Dick's leg had loosened up again they were loath to do anything that might let it cramp back up, so without speaking on the matter they simply pressed on, watching the sky for clouds and the high-up horizon for any sign of Damian's silver tower.

"...Timmy," Dick said, jerking to a stop an hour or so after the very last trickle in the river bed had dried up. He pointed at the glimmering pole that had appeared as they'd rounded a bend. "Look there."

"…Is that it?"

"It's got to be. It's the first metal we've seen under the force field didn't belong to something we carried in with us."

"How high do you think it goes?"

"It's pretty tall. Maybe a thousand feet? I don't know, without being able to see the base."

"Yeah...well, at least now we _know_ Damian wasn't making shit up."

"I told you he wouldn't," he frowned. "Not about something like this."

"I know, and I believed you, it's just...Damian."

"Aw, Timmy..." _Can't you trust him just a __little__? Please?_

"Hey, his credit's gone up in my book now that I've seen this," Tim defended himself. "But..."

When he didn't go on, Dick tore his eyes away from the tower and turned to him. "What is it?"

"Is that what I think it is? Up there by the top of the pole?"

Peering into the bright sky, he picked out a familiar silhouette. _The Batplane,_ he grinned. An instant later his joy cooled. _Oh, Bruce, you haven't been sitting there this whole time waiting for us to show up and let you in, have you? I'm sorry...we went as fast as we could..._ "Let's hurry," he said urgently. "We can't be far now. If we're careful, maybe we can sneak in and figure out how to disable the barrier without having to fight too many people." If they could get Batman inside, they'd be golden.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Tim grabbed his elbow. "Hold up. Two things. First; 'sneak in'? It's broad daylight, and you're limping. How exactly do you propose we do that?"

"We'll just take our time," he argued back. "I mean, we'll go fast, but we'll take our time, too. Walk closer to the edge, keep your eyes on the cliffs, and be prepared to hide if need be. They can't have many people back here, and as long ago as they set up the force field those guards are probably bored stiff of staring at the dirt. We can manage it, I think, and it's way better than trying to walk outside of the river bed in the dark would be."

"Even putting that aside – I still think it's crazy, but I see what you mean about waiting until dark – who are we?"

"...Huh?" He wrinkled his nose. "What do you mean, 'who are we'?"

"Are we masked, or not? I don't have any clean water left, but we could probably manage enough mud to fake disguises if we had to. It would be gross, but we could do it."

It was a good question, but after a second Dick shook his head. "Masks would be necessary if we were carrying Batgear or were going to use any of our signature moves, but we're not. I know _I'm _not up for any fancy footwork, at least. Plus, if they have access to the hiker's schedule, which they'd be stupid not to, then they know that we were the only ones who were back here when the force field went up. If two guys in masks show up, they _have_ to be us, and the question then would be why a couple of civilians would randomly choose to slob urine-mud all over their faces."

Tim pursed his lips and appeared to think hard. "...Okay. I don't like it, but okay. You're right. It will raise too many questions if we're wearing crappy masks, and if we try and do this in the dark we'll probably just get ourselves killed before we even _see_ the bad guy. So...forward?"

"Forward we go. Nice and easy, but quick and silent, too. Keep your eyes peeled."

"Right."

They covered the last half-mile at a veritable crawl, scanning the rock faces on either side of them for any sign of opposition. None appeared, though, and as they drew slowly closer to their destination Dick began to wonder what was going on. _There have to be guards, don't there?_ he pondered. The only excuses he could think of for the utter lack of sentries this close to the tower were that the villain in charge was extremely confident about no one being inside the force field who wasn't on their payroll or that the quake and its aftershocks had killed everyone. In such steep terrain it wasn't difficult to believe the latter option, and he'd certainly met his fair share of cocky baddies before, but it seemed too easy.

Rounding a final curve, they came into view of the broad, tree-lined pool that had once caught and calmed the pounding waters of Asperity Falls. Most of its contents had flowed out days earlier, leaving a pond no larger than a swimming pool isolated near the middle. It would be more than enough to fill their once-again empty bottles,however,and Dick licked his lips longingly.

They didn't dare cross so much open ground to get to it, though, at least not until they were absolutely sure they were alone. Signing to his brother to scan the left, he began to examine everything to the right. Tumbled rocks, flattened trees, what looked like it may have been a dead deer...and there, in the rock wall that had until so recently been hidden by a constant curtain of water, the opening of a cave. If there was truly no one else around, maybe, just maybe, they would be able to get a bit of rest before they entered onto the final stage of their quest. "Timmy," he hissed low. "Look. There's a ca-"

He broke off as the sound of a shotgun's slide echoed to their left. Taking advantage of their distraction, a single figure had stepped out from behind a pile of rubble. Now she leveled her weapon at them and spoke. "Don't move, and I won't kill you."

It was, Dick thought grimly as he saw Tim's jaw drop in disbelief, too good of an offer to refuse.

* * *

**Author's Note: I'm going out of town this weekend, and as such probably will not be posting on this story until Monday (please don't hate me, LOL). I do have another 'Spot of Tea' chapter that I should be able to get up sometime during my absence, so keep an eye out for that. And don't despair! Our boys aren't done for yet!**


	37. Chapter 37

Robin paced the narrow corridor of the Batplane's passenger section, bored out of his mind but unable to do anything about it. Three days had passed since he'd had visual confirmation that Grayson and Drake were alive and relatively whole. Much of his time since then had been spent staring down at the ground around Asperity Falls in the desperate hope that they would appear again.

They hadn't, though, and that was quickly moving from being a concern to being an outright crisis. Storms beneath the dome had blocked out their view of the earth below on two occasions, and each time they had held out hope that the pair had passed beneath them while they were obscured. Subsequent earthquakes abroad, which now came at intervals of between sixteen and eighteen hours, had ruled that out after each cloud mass had dissipated.

All of them had been intraplate temblors, and all of them had been extremely large. The most powerful had rocked East Africa so strongly that the latest satellite maps were reporting that Mt. Kilimanjaro had been thrust upward several hundred meters and now rivaled Mt. McKinley for the number-three spot in the list of the Seven Summits. Others had struck in northern Europe, central South America, and most recently just east of the Caspian Sea.

Robin had heard snippets of conversations between Batman and the Watchtower, and had absorbed all of the grim facts. The news was as abysmal as could be expected: stock markets were fluctuating madly around the world; unfathomable numbers of people were being toted up as dead or missing; many nations were becoming tightfisted with emergency resources that they might need in their own country when the next quake struck. From those disastrous details he had drawn the simple conclusion that it had to stop, and soon, or there would be little chance of global recovery within anything like a reasonable time frame.

Despite that dire necessity, they still had no breakthrough that would allow them to launch a strike on whomever it was that was causing the world to shudder. The original task force had grown, and now supposedly included some three dozen heroes and a small army of civilian contacts. They had all of the information that was known about the force field, but so far it had come to naught. The invisible barrier stood, and the planet continued to sit on the edge of its seat, waiting.

At least, he thought as Flash gave a sleepy snort in one of the uncomfortable passenger chairs, Superman seemed to have finally pulled his head out of his ass. Besides increasing the size of the team working on a solution, the Kryptonian had made frequent trips to the Batplane, bringing food, news, and a bit of much-needed morale support. He had continued to refrain from making any sweeping statements about the probable state of the men below, but Damian found himself more and more willing to forgive him for that with every hour that passed. It was hard to blame him for being cautious when there were still aftershocks rolling by and no sign of the only people who could halt the ongoing destruction of the world. His own confidence was waning under those pressures, after all, and Superman had been a skeptic from the beginning.

"Robin."

He turned to find his father standing in the doorway to the cockpit, his lips pressed so tightly together that they were all but invisible. "What?"

"Monitor the screens. I need to speak with Flash."

"Why?" He narrowed his eyes and glanced at the slumbering speedster. "What's going on?"

Batman seemed to hesitate, but after a moment he answered. "...Several of the nuclear power stations that were affected by the quake in Europe have entered critical phases. Another is already in meltdown."

Robin stared at him. "Aren't...but they have containment systems for things like this!" he sputtered.

"Yes, and most if not all of those systems were compromised by the earthquake. You saw the pictures from Holland; the same thing as happened to the dikes happened to the buildings enclosing the reactors."

He gulped. The barricades keeping the sea at bay in the Netherlands had twisted and bent in their efforts to withstand the 7.9 magnitude wrenching that the earth had done beneath them, but in the end many of them had given out. It wasn't difficult for him to apply that same sort of motion to the thick, rigid concrete of nuclear cooling stacks and containment walls, and once he did he understood why Batman looked so disturbed. "...We're not leaving?" he asked. "We _can't_ leave." _They're still down there, somewhere...even if they're dead, they're still down there._

"No. We're not leaving. There are others who can ferry people out of the risk zone." He paused. "Superman didn't ask us to leave, for the record. Someone has to be here in case we manage to get through. And," he added pointedly, "someone needs to be up front, watching the monitors."

"I'm going," Robin groused, getting the hint. _I'm probably not going to see anything, but I'm going..._ At least it would give him something to look at for a little while.

Batman shut the door once he was in the cockpit, making it impossible for him to hear what was being said out in the main section of the aircraft. He wasn't sure what they could be talking about that was worse than the coat of radiation that Europe was currently being threatened by, but since there was no way to find out without being caught – his father would be watching the door, he was certain - he slunk over to the pilot's chair and dropped into it. A single glance at the screens focused on the dried-up pond below told him that nothing had changed, and he sighed. _Come __on__, Grayson. You're better than this. Where the hell are you?_

"Watchtower to Batman."

Frowning, he picked up the radio. "There can't be something _else_ wrong," he said flatly by way of greeting. "...And Batman's busy."

"Hello, Robin," Superman answered, his voice a bit giddy. "Believe it or not, I have what may be good news."

He bolted upright. "Did someone figure out how to get us down there?!" he nearly shouted.

"No. It's not quite _that_ good of news. Sorry."

"...Oh." He fell back into his seat. "What is it, then?"

"I'm sending you a file with information on someone who may be involved in this. We've been talking to everyone in the seismology community we can get our hands on, and this person's name has come up several times as being someone with the right expertise who is currently incommunicado. We don't _know_ that it's her," he cautioned, "but you'll see why she seems like a good candidate."

Robin felt his interest uptick again. "Okay. I'll look at it and give it to Batman when he's done," he said.

"Good. Thanks, Robin. I should be down there again in a few hours, depending on how the, uh, little situation we've got in Europe goes."

"The nuclear plants. Yeah, I know."

"...Oh. Well...good. I-"

"Can't you just fly over there and drop enough rubble on top of the piles so that they don't kill everyone?" Damian cut him off.

"There are a few other things I have to do in each place before I get to the 'dumping rubble' part, but...you have a pretty good grasp of what's _going_ to happen in at least a couple of places."

The Kryptonian sounded impressed, as Robin thought he ought to. "Good. At least you're doing something about the problem without being prodded into it this time." He supposed he could forgive the man for thinking that Grayson and Drake weren't likely to have survived the initial quake, but that didn't excuse his failure to do something to verify his suspicions._ You could have at least flown out here and looked before you told Father what was going on, _he mused_._ "I'll wait for the file. Robin out."

It was satisfying to hang up on people who had irked you, he discovered as he broke the call off. It was no wonder Batman did it so often. Alfred wouldn't approve, he knew, but Alfred was in Gotham, not here, and therefore couldn't do anything about it. Before he could begin to enumerate a list of all the things he could do when the butler wasn't watching him like a hawk, Superman's message came through. "Okay," he muttered as he opened it. "Let's see what kind of crazy we're dealing with..."

Tracy Rae Collins seemed normal enough to start with. A good academic record had led up to her receiving a doctorate in geophysics some thirty five years earlier. After that she had done a stint of teaching at the university level, but she seemed to have tired of that quickly. Before long she'd switched into field work, which from the short synopses provided seemed to have consisted of historical quake analysis and risk assessment...of intraplate temblors. She had traveled the world in that line of work, visiting – Damian's frown deepened – every single one of the locations where earthquakes had taken place in the last week.

Those places were highlighted in the report, and as he read through them he found a disturbing pattern. Each of the spots that had been rocked by major quakes had been visited by Dr. Collins on a separate trip from the others. What was more, each had been the third stop on her itinerary, and with the exception of the first event they were going in chronological order. Maybe, his eyes widened, they could predict where she was going to strike next...

The door opened behind him just as he pinpointed the most likely new target. "Batman!" he exclaimed, whirling around. "We need to evacuate the Lower Mississippi!"

"Now that's a heck of a proclamation," Flash commented over the cowled figure's shoulder.

"...New Madrid?" Batman ventured slowly.

"Yes! Look..." Leaping from the chair, he gestured for his mentor to take it. "Superman just sent a report down on someone they think might be causing the earthquakes. She did risk assessment studies on intraplate earthquakes for, like, twenty years, and – look – she visited every single place that there's been one lately. Plus there's a-"

"A pattern," a growl cut him off. "I see it. You're right; the New Madrid fault fits as the next location. However, there are a couple of issues with this woman being the culprit."

"Like what?!" he challenged, crossing his arms.

"Like the fact that the first quake does _not_ fit the pattern. Also, none of this explains the force field. Judging from this file," he scrolled past where Damian had stopped reading, "she doesn't have the sort of experience that would lend itself to such an advanced development in practical physics. Although..." He trailed off for a moment, leaning in towards the screen.

"Although _what_?!" Robin demanded. His entire body was tense, every muscle tightening as he waited to hear whether or not they had identified their villain.

"There's a note here that states that Dr. Collins was dismissed from her position because she got into a nasty feud with several other top scientists as well as with a couple of different ethics boards. According to some of her past colleagues, she had the idea that lives could be saved if they implemented a system to relieve plate pressure by instigating quakes." He leaned back. "Mm..."

"That's practically a smoking gun," Flash opined. "Don't you think?"

"It's certainly gives us an idea of her mindset when she was fired. But it also leads to another problem; whoever is setting these quakes off isn't giving any warning other than _maybe_ the pattern that Robin found. If her whole argument was that her plan would save lives, why would she launch a warning-free campaign that has already killed hundreds of thousands?"

"To prove her point, obviously!" Damian exclaimed.

Batman turned to him. "To prove her point. All right; but how is she doing it?"

"How should I know?!"

"How should _she_ know?" the man countered. "If she had a way of doing it ten years ago, when she was initially trying to 'prove her point', why didn't she? And if she _didn't_ have a way, I doubt ten years of study in a separate field from her own would have given her the knowledge she needed in order to come up with one, let alone to come up with the force field. I'm not saying it's impossible, Robin, but I _am_ saying that it's improbable."

"So's the whole _thing_, Batman! The force field, the earthquakes, all of it!"

"I agree. That's why we're going to look further into it. We'll treat her just like a suspect in any other case. You can get started on looking up her relations and anyone else she knew who might have had the expertise to create a force field or cause a massive earthquake. In the meantime, we'll ask for the evacuation of the New Madrid area and nearby major cities. Flash-"

"What's that?" the speedster asked plainly.

"...Weren't you listening?" Batman half-growled, a trace of annoyance bleeding into his tone.

"Yes, I was, but what's _that_?" Leaning in between them, Flash jabbed his finger at movement on the screen still displaying the ground below. "I just looked over and saw it..."

There was a moment of perfect silence as they all stared at two tiny moving spots. "...Is it?" Damian breathed finally.

"I don't know," Batman replied, but his voice was trembling. He zoomed the camera in, and three simultaneous gasps filled the small space. Their angle wasn't conducive to seeing facial expressions, but there was no question as to who they were looking at. Dick was still limping, Damian noted, and Tim was still carrying the red backpack, which looked suitably beat-up for the trek it had just been on. "...They must have come up the river instead of going back along the trail," the seated man murmured, his hand cupping the side of the screen. "Clever..."

"There are no guards, you idiots," the boy muttered as the figures stopped and began to scan the surrounding rocks. "Just _go_."

"They don't know that," Flash, who was still leaning in over him, said. "We're the only ones with a birds' eye view."

"They need to hurry," he argued despite his private admission that the redhead was right.

"Just because we haven't seen any guards doesn't mean there aren't any inside that cave we noticed when we swung around to scan the cliff yesterday," Batman put in distractedly. "They're unarmored and unarmed; they need to be cautious. _Extremely-"_

He broke off as a third figure stepped out from behind a large rock. She carried what appeared to be a shotgun in her hands, and as they watched she trained it on the men who had stumbled into her territory.

The tension in the cockpit was suddenly so heavy that it was hard to breathe. The woman's mouth moved, and Damian felt something strain in his chest. _Don't shoot them,_ he begged. _Don't, don't shoot them. If you do, I swear I'll...I'll...I'll do something. Just don't shoot them..._

Whatever they said must have been sufficient, because after a second she moved her lips again and then jerked her head towards the cave. Tim shrugged his pack off, abandoning it on the ground, and then he and Dick both started to walk. "...Batman!" Robin whispered desperately. _Do something! _

"I can't do anything, Robin," a helpless answer came back as the duo was marched up and out of sight. "...I can't do anything at all."

* * *

**Author's Note: There's a little infographic up on my blog this morning about the Seven Summits, in case anyone's interested. Happy reading!**


	38. Chapter 38

Their best bet, Dick thought quickly as Tim froze beside him, was to act as if they had no idea that there was something sinister going on. They were simple backpackers, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Their names had been down to be hiking in the region, after all, and if it came down to it he was relying on that simple fact to back up their story. They were looking for a better rescue point from the shaken land, and that was it; no harm intended. If they could stick to that story, maybe they would be left alive long enough to try and do something.

"Um...hi," he tried to smile, raising the hand that he wasn't holding himself up with. "Were you hiking out here, too, when that quake hit? It was pretty nasty..." The woman said nothing, but kept brandishing her shotgun, so he went on. "Anyway, uh, we've just been looking for a good place for rescue to pick us up. The falls seemed like the first place they'll search, so...uh...I'm sorry," he apologized, "that looks like it's great bear protection and all, but could you maybe point it somewhere else?"

She stared at him coldly for a long second. "You," she addressed Tim, "put down your backpack. Can you walk without that stick?" she directed at Dick as Tim complied.

"Nope. I'm afraid I'm pretty tied to it, at least until I can get a doctor to look at my leg." It was a lie – after a day of walking the wounded limb was relatively limber, and while he wouldn't be running any footraces he could probably have managed to limp along without support. Still, _she _didn't need to know that; if nothing else the crutch might serve as a weapon if she ever let her guard down enough for him to strike without getting one of them killed.

"Then bring it and walk ahead of me. Go towards the cave; you'll see how to get up there when we're closer." With that she gestured in the correct direction. "Hurry up, I don't have time to waste."

"Are you working on a rescue plan, too, then?" Dick kept up the chatter as he followed Tim towards the cliffs. "We've got an emergency locator beacon, but no one's responded...it's strange, I thought they were supposed to come right away when those went off. I guess the quake must have really rattled everything nearby, though." Something that felt horribly like the barrel of their captor's gun prodded him in the spine. "...I _really_ wish you'd point that somewhere else. We're not here to hurt you or anything, honest."

"Is that so? Because you seem oddly unfazed by the fact that I could kill you at any time with a few carefully placed ounces of pressure."

He saw Tim's shoulders tense at that, and answered quickly lest the younger man turn and try to do something about the bald-faced threat that had just been uttered. "Oh, trust me, I'm fazed," he promised. "Most of what I'm saying is nervous chatter. But if it helps any, I'll admit right up front that I used to be a cop. _Used_ to be!" he stressed as she hissed and poked him a little harder. "I'm not anymore, but...well, I've had guns pointed at me before, that's all. Although I have to ask _why_ you've got us like this...?"

"None of your business. Now climb."

A series of roughly cut rock steps led up to the cave mouth. They would have been invisible to anyone who didn't know they were there when the water was flowing, but now that the falls were dry they stood out clearly. "Ah...climbing's not really my forte right now," he demurred, hanging back.

"You either climb them, and fast, or you die. I told you I don't have time to waste."

There wasn't much he could say to that, and he got the sense from her tone that she wasn't kidding about being willing to pull the trigger. _If she shoots me like this,_ he calculated, _there's a good chance that the slug will go through me and hit Timmy. We can't have that, then we'll both be out of service... _"Oookay then," he agreed. "Here goes."

He hitched himself up the stairs, making the task look more difficult than it really was but not lingering too long lest she decide she was done waiting on him. Slumping against the rock wall at the top, he made a show of panting and holding his leg off the ground. "Oww..."

"You okay?" Tim asked quietly.

"I'll live." He shot him a weak smile and a tiny, hidden wink, hoping that it would relay the fact that he was exaggerating.

"For a little while, maybe," the woman commented flatly. "Get going. Just follow the main corridor until I tell you to stop. And _you," _she nudged Dick in the ribs this time, the sighting bead digging painfully into his flesh, "try not to talk so damn much. When I want to know about you, I'll ask."

"Absolutely. My apologies." Falling into line behind Tim again, he grimaced. At this rate they wouldn't be getting the jump on her before they got into the heart of the cave, however far away that was. Then again, he supposed that was a good thing, since they would need to have an idea of how the force field was generated before they could bring it down. The earthquakes were something else altogether, but if they could just get Batman and a few other JLAers on the ground that would be resolved soon enough.

_Batman..._ A bolt of guilt shot through him as he recalled the sight of the sleek black jet hovering a thousand feet above the falls. _I hope you didn't see us get taken prisoner by a crazy lady with a big gun, Bruce. Please, please don't have seen that..._

As the brightness from outside faded away, caged work lamps appeared overhead. They didn't exactly flood the natural corridor with light, but any advantage that the duo might have gained from low visibility was cut down so rigorously as to be nonexistent. They trekked on without argument, their course meandering as if it were following the dry riverbed on the surface above them. Only when they had reached a large, domed room were they ordered to stop, which they did with the obedience expected of men with powerful firearms pointed at them.

Glancing around, Dick had to confess that he was impressed. Along one wall were ranged several cobbled-together pieces of equipment that he had to assume were the machines being used to maintain the force field and, if the threat Damian had perceived was truly as dire as it had sounded, to create earthquakes. One of them was filling the space with a gentle hum that reminded him powerfully of an electric motor; another was attached to the base of a broad, silver-colored pole that ran straight up and into the ceiling. It was clearly the beginning of the tower that ended just below the barrier, but knowing that didn't answer the frustrated question growing in the back of his mind. _None of this looks familiar. How are we going to shut it off if we can't figure out how to work the controls?_

It was a moot point at the moment, but there was little else he could worry about. Unless their guard had force cuffs – which, judging from the somewhat ramshackle look of her headquarters, she did not – they should be able to free themselves from any restraints she put them in more or less at will. Short of her having told everyone else to hide as if they were preparing for a surprise party, there wouldn't be any opposing armies to get past in order to do their work. In fact, it was almost beginning to look as if the trek back to the falls had been the difficult part of the mission. _...We might survive this, after all,_ Dick thought as giddiness began to rise in his chest. _Us __and__ the rest of the world._

"Charity!" the woman called towards a plywood wall that blocked part of the cave off from the rest. "Come out here, please. We have...visitors."

There was a brief silence, then a muffled, disbelieving squeak and the sound of hurrying footsteps. A face appeared around the edge of the plywood barricade, its narrowed eyes peeking out at them. "...Where did _they_ come from?" the girl, who Dick estimated to be a couple of years younger than Tim, queried with an odd mix of suspicion and excitement in her voice.

"It doesn't matter; they're here now, and they need watched. I'll help you chain them, but you'll have to stand over them while I set up for New Madrid. We'll guard them in shifts; we don't want anyone getting any heroic ideas," she sneered.

Charity stepped into full view, and Dick saw Tim straighten his posture unconsciously. A subtle shift seemed to have occurred in the younger man's mien, and it was so absurd that it took him a moment to determine what exactly had happened. _Oh, jesus, little brother,_ he bit back a laugh as the girl walked forward and he finally figured out what was going on. _A perfectly nice airline stewardess and an equally pleasant park ranger both flirt with you, and you're not interested, but if a someone's mother takes you hostage you're suddenly into them? I should have known you were hiding a bad-girl fetish..._

Before he could really begin to wonder if Tim was losing his mind, though, he caught the appraising look that Charity was sending right back at her new admirer. It was enough to make him hold his tongue and shift from big brother teasing gear into Nightwing scheming mode. The girl _had_ to know what her mother was up to – she didn't look like an idiot, at least – and if she decided that she had the hots for his brother she might play right into their hands. _Especially,_ he thought, _if she knows that what her mother's doing could kill us all. _Enough freshly-rescued men and women had come onto him over the years for him to know that the threat of imminent death was the sort of thing that made people hormonal; surely the effect would be amplified when the person in question was a teenager who'd been locked up in an isolated cave with no one but her mother for who knew how long.

_Okay, Timmy; I'll wait to tease you about her until this is all over, _he decided as Charity accepted the gun with the ease of a professional and then ordered them to walk ahead of her into a side cavern. _But even if your little crush saves the day, I'm going to give you so much shit later for falling for the villain's daughter..._

* * *

**Author's Note: Dick may think that Charity and her mother will be easy to overcome, but that doesn't mean that you should. Our boys aren't out of the woods just yet, so stay tuned, and happy reading!**


	39. Chapter 39

It was funny, Tim thought a little bitterly as his hands were tied behind him and his ankles bound with parachute cord, how things worked out sometimes. Here stood he and Dick, both highly trained in numerous forms of combat, both members of an elite band of heroes, and both forced by circumstance to allow themselves to be pinioned and held hostage while the outside world was being shaken apart. Add in the force field and the weird attraction he felt towards the girl currently holding a rather large shotgun on his brother, and the whole situation passed into the realm of surrealism.

"Sit," the older female ordered him. Tied as he was, he fell backwards into the wall with a jarring thud and winced as a hundred different points on his abused body complained. A moment later he felt an unpleasant tug on his wrists. Craning his head up, he found that a length of taut rope now connected his arms to a hook fixed into the wall above him, severely limiting his range of movement. It was no problem, really – he would still be able to wriggle free of his makeshift cuffs in a minute or two when it was time – but it wasn't going to be a comfortable wait for his opportunity to strike. Planning ahead, he began to flex his fingers, trying to keep the blood flowing to them despite their wrenched and pinched position.

Charity was standing over him suddenly, still holding her weapon. By bending to the extreme limits of his leash he found that he could look around her and catch sight of Dick, who was putting on a show of struggling to remain upright without his crutch while his hands were dragged behind him. Their eyes met, and Dick's gaze traveled suggestively between him and the girl. _Talk to her!_ Tim read in his brother's expression.

_Oh, yeah, there's an idea,_ he griped. _Talk to her, flirt with her, get her to spill a few beans...but that's __your__ forte, Dick, not mine. Shit..._ He had to try, though, especially when he realized that she was wearing a look of mingled interest and confusion that was a perfect match for the way he felt at the moment. "Um...hey," he tried to smile. It felt wrong on his face, and he knew it probably looked more sickly than charming, but it was the best he could do. "I'm...my name's Tim."

She blinked at him for a moment before she answered. "Are you seriously attempting to flirt with the person who will have to kill you if he" - she twitched her head towards Dick, who had dropped to the ground with a yelp of pain - "tries anything?"

"He won't try anything," Tim assured. "He's kind of busted up for that, you know?" _Although if you'd seen him wallop on that bear the other night, you'd be calling me a liar right now,_ he thought. "I just thought...um..." It would be much easier to do this if the feeble overhead light wasn't shining so attractively off of her curly hair, or if she would at least just look somewhere other than straight into his eyes. "...Well, if you're going to be guarding us, we might as well get to know each other, right?" he managed finally.

"Charity," a warning came from the elder villainess as she straightened from her task. "These are outsiders. Remember that."

"I know, mother," she rolled her eyes without turning around. "I'm eighteen, not eight, thanks. I think I know by now that everyone who isn't _you_ is an outsider."

The older woman's mouth tightened. "Just remember all of the efforts I've made," she reminded. "That your...your father made."

Charity seemed to tense at that. "I'm aware, mother."

"...Good. Then I'll leave you to it. Don't trust _them_ for a moment." And then she was gone, vanishing back into the main part of the cave.

There was silence for a long second after that. Then Charity turned on her heel and walked towards the third wall of the vaguely triangular room. Settling back against it so that she could see them both clearly, she held the gun across her legs, keeping it ready to turn it on them at any moment. While she was facing away Tim caught another significant look from Dick, and steeled his nerve. "So," he tried again, "yeah...have you ever-"

"I'm not going to tell you anything, you know," she cut him off.

_...Well, so much for that. _He had to fight to keep his shoulders from slumping. As nice as it had been to be the object of feminine attention – a position more usually held by his brother – on this trip, a part of him was seriously wishing that this particular girl had gone after Dick instead. _I can lie to the faces of mind readers, I've outsmarted some of the cleverest people alive, and I can even occasionally sneak something past Batman himself,_ he rued, still gaping at her comment, _but ask me to sidle my way into a woman's good graces and I'm shut down faster than Damian at an etiquette competition._

"Tell us any of _what_?" Dick broke in, his voice bordering on panic. It took Tim a second to decide that he really _was _faking the emotion. "Look, lady, we don't know what's going on here, okay? I mean, we were just hiking when that earthquake hit, you know? We weren't looking for trouble. When your mom stepped out with that gun...what do you have us tied up for, anyway? What did she mean about prepping for 'New Madrid'? You guys part of some crazy right-wing sect, or what? Aren't...aren't you...what the hell _is_ this place?"

"...I hope you aren't as stupid as your friend is, uh...Tim, right?" Charity saidcontemptuously.

"Hey!"

"It _is _Tim. And he's not stupid," he frowned at her. He knew he needed to stick to the story Dick was laying down for him, but it was much harder than usual in front of her. _Damn it, Drake, pull yourself together! _"We...we really _don't_ know what's going on. I mean...we thought we were the only people back here this week."

"Yeah!" Dick latched onto his last sentence. "We're supposed to be the only ones! I paid premium for _exclusive_ permits! There's not supposed to be anyone here, and they definitely aren't supposed to tie us up and hold us prisoner! I swear, I'll have my money back for this..."

_Jesus, bro, spreading it on a little heavy over there?_ Tim winced. Glancing at Charity, though, he found that the act was working. Her lip was curled, and her fingers tightened their grip on the gun as she glared at what was clearly her least-favorite captive.

"Money," she scoffed. "That's all you people care about, isn't it? Your precious _money_. Thousands are dead from the quake that went off under our feet alone, but do you spare a thought for them? No. No, it's all about how _you've_ been inconvenienced_. _You're not even upset that the shaking caused you injury; you're upset that you didn't get every ounce of value out of your ridiculous luxury purchase. My _god_," she shook her head. "...I hate to say this, but mother was right all of those times she told me that outsiders are too vain and greedy to be allowed in decent society."

Tim's mind flew, processing everything that had just been said. Seeing a potential way to ingratiate himself with the girl, he leaped on it. "People...people _died_ in that quake? _Thousands_ of people died?" he breathed, not needing to force the disbelief thickening his voice. While he had expected that such a powerful tremor had caused loss of life in the nearer cities, he hadn't been anticipating such a high casualty rate. If thousands were dead, he wondered, what had the quake registered on the Richter scale? More importantly, how had Charity and her mother caused it?

Charity turned back to him, her face suspicious but softer than it had been when she'd regarded Dick. "...Yes. Thousands."

"But...you said that many died from the quake here 'alone'. You don't mean...there weren't others? Other earthquakes?" He forced his eyes wide. _Tell me how many. Tell me how ruined the world outside is._

She gave another one of her long blinks. "...I've already said too much. And _you_," she aimed at the older man, "have also been too outspoken. Your _money_ back," she sneered. "Grow a conscience, why don't you?"

None of them said anything for a while after that. Dick sank back against the rough rock wall with a perturbed look and appeared to go to sleep. Tim wasn't sure if he was still acting or not – the older man had a reputation for being a phenomenal fake sleeper, and after the last few days he wouldn't have blamed him for catching a little rest while he could – but either way his silence might lead into another shot at Charity. "...Your mother...uh..."

Her gaze zeroed in on him, making his tongue tie. "What about her?"

"She...well, she mentioned your father. Is he...he's dead, isn't he?"

She drew a sharp breath. "Mother didn't say that," a snarled reply came.

"I know she didn't. It's just...my parents are gone, too, you know, so I can sort of read the signs." He shrugged as best he could with his wrists hammocked between his shoulder blades. "I didn't mean to pry, I just thought...you know...it's something we have in common."

"Yeah, well, that's about _all_ we have in common, so just...just drop it."

It was really sad, he lamented as he watched her dab at her eyes, how often the fact that his parents were dead came in handy. For all that he felt the urge to tear up right along with her, though, he couldn't let his opportunity to exploit the weakness he'd found in her walls go by. "...My parents were murdered," he whispered. "Not at the same time, but...still murdered."

Her lips pressed down into an apt imitation of the look her mother had worn as she'd left the cave. _Damn, did I overstep __again__?_ he frowned. Sure, she'd told him to drop the topic, but mentioning the way his parents had died normally elicited sympathy, not anger. _I don't know what I'm doing, Dick. I wish you'd drop that...well, that dickish persona you seem to have adopted just to set yourself up in her mind as a foil to me. Then maybe we could get something out of her, because none of my tactics are working... _To be fair, Dick _had_ been the one who had inspired Charity's highly informative monologue a bit earlier; that didn't help their cause now, though.

"I guess maybe we have something else in common, then. But that's _it,_" she swore. "Nothing else."

_...Wait, that worked? Oh._ "So...your father was murdered, too?"

"It might as well have been murder. People don't care for each other unless there's something to be gained from it for them; it's disgusting. Being...being afraid is no excuse not to at least _try_ and save someone's life, even if you don't know them."

"Yeah," he nodded. "...I agree. It's not. Is...is that what happened-"

"Stop," she ordered as the sound of footsteps echoed into their little chamber, drawing closer. Standing up, she brushed a bit of dust from her pants and shot him an uncertain look of appraisal. "I don't even talk about that to mother, so I _definitely _don't want to talk about it to a...an outsider. Greed and gold...that's all you and your friend really care about, isn't it?"

"No," he shook his head. "It's not."

Her expression wavered momentarily, but her mother came into the room before he could probe to determine just how deep that flicker of questioning went. _Damn it! I was finally getting somewhere. Maybe. I think…_

"Go get some sleep," the elder commanded, taking the gun. "I'll watch them for the next four hours, and then we'll switch again."

"Have you done it?" Charity queried, her voice shaking slightly. "New Madrid?"

"Not yet."

"...Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

"Night," Tim pitched in. It earned him a glare from the older woman – there was no way he'd get so much as a scrap of information from her, he was certain – but that little flutter ran across the girl's face again. _'Outsiders,'_ he pondered as she disappeared and her mother took up the guard position. _When was the last time you were allowed out into the world, Charity? And if it's been a while, just how curious are you about what it's really like?_

They were questions he couldn't answer without speaking to her longer, and that wouldn't be happening for another four hours, at least. He hated to wait that long, especially since it wouldn't be exceptionally difficult to free himself, get the gun away from Charity's mother, and tie her up. There were so many things they needed to know… Were there other locations like this in the world, all covering some great earth-shaker that would have to be dismantled? Was this part of a larger scheme they would have to tackle before the planet was safe? They were urgent questions, but if he acted too fast and they both refused to talk as a result he would never get the answers.

Besides, he grimaced, tackling the equipment next door without someone who knew what they were doing beside him might very well be suicide or, worse yet, murder. If it was truly set up to cause a quake elsewhere in the world, it might take nothing more than the brush of a button to kill even more innocent people, and that wasn't something he could live with. On top of that was the risk to their masks; why would two simple civilians stop running away from being held at gunpoint to destroy machinery the purpose of which was a mystery to them? It would be questioned, not just by the women but by anyone else the real story was ever leaked to.

He would have to wait, and that was that. If he was going to just sit here, though, he might as well rest so that he would be ready for action when the time finally came. Letting his head fall back against the wall, he closed his eyes. _We're working on it, Bruce,_ he spared a thought for the man who was no doubt still hovering high above them and worrying. _We just need more time..._


	40. Chapter 40

**Author's Note: Due to the fact that I was recently asked to write the script and novelization for a very exciting game that is currently in pre-production, I will be dropping back to posting fanfiction every other day rather than the every day rate I have been trying to keep up with. I may occasionally post chapters of smaller pieces like 'A Spot of Tea' or 'Summer Shorts' on off-days, however. **

**On that note, today we begin to get answers. Happy reading!**

* * *

Tim awoke to heated whispers. Peeking out through his eyelashes, he found Charity and her mother both on their feet and squared off against one another. He couldn't quite make out their words, but the expressions they wore left him with no doubt that they were having a nasty row. As he watched, the younger woman said something that made the elder pale and then quickly flush. Before he even realized that her hand was rising she had smacked the impertinent mouth that had dared to offer her sass.

Charity stood stock-still for a moment, her fists clenched, her head turned to one side from the force of the blow. Now, finally, their voices rose so that he could hear them. "I didn't want to do that, Charity," her mother's voice trembled with anger, "but you need to remember what this is about. Not revenge, as you so...so _callously_ stated, but about making a better world for you to live in."

"And how do you expect me to know that this new world of yours is better than the old one that you never let me experience for myself?" a half-whining snarl replied.

"It will be. Trust me, it will be." There was a zeal in her tone that Tim had learned long ago to take as a warning sign. "Remember what your father died for, Charity; so that you wouldn't have to live in such an unkind world as exists now. That is why we have to keep going; that's why we can't stop. Understand?"

Charity wiped her eyes and sniffled. "...I understand, mother," she murmured, something accusatory lingering in her tone. "I understand."

"Good." Raising her hand again, her mother patted her reddened cheek gently. "I'm going to go get some sleep, and then...New Madrid. All right?"

"Okay," Charity ducked her head.

"You'll watch our...visitors...in the meantime?"

"Yes," she nodded, taking the gun. "I'll watch them."

"That's my girl." The older woman turned to walk away, then paused and looked back. "...He'd be so proud of you right now. I want you to know that."

"...Thanks, mom. I know."

When they were alone, Tim dared to open his eyes fully. Charity saw him, and raised a finger to her lips to keep him quiet. Out in the main cave, footsteps died away; a moment later there was silence. She glanced into the other chamber, then came back in with a superior look on her face. "...You want to know what's going on here?" she asked him unsteadily.

His jaw dropped. "Well _yeah_, but..." _But it shouldn't be this easy,_ he frowned. _You're not even going to make me work for it? That's...that's too simple._

"But why would I tell you?"

"...Yeah. I mean, you're not going to kill us right afterward or anything, are you?"

"No. If I was going to kill you, I would have done it already. Besides...that would make me like _her_, and I don't...I don't want to be like her." She sniffed again. "And it doesn't matter anyway, what you do and don't know. It doesn't matter because we're all screwed after what she's done."

"What exactly _has_ she done?"

"She's...look, it's easier to start from the beginning, okay?"

"I-" _I need to know what she's doing and how,_ he bit back. The why was important, yes, but it could wait until after they'd put a stop to the what. Evidently, though, it _couldn't_ wait in Charity's mind, and right now keeping the girl talking was what really mattered. "...Okay."

She sighed. "She'll never forgive me for talking to you, even though it isn't going to make a real difference, but...you deserve to know, I think." She seemed to be talking more to herself than to him, but he let her go on. "You didn't ask for this any more than all those millions of others she's hurt did; the least I can do is make sure _one_ of the innocent people caught up in her plan knows why they had to suffer."

"...I would appreciate that," he ventured when she appeared to have finished. Part of him wished that Dick was awake to verify that this unimaginable stroke of luck wasn't a dream, but he was still leaning against the wall with his eyes closed and a pinched expression on his face. _Be faking it,_ he pleaded. _We don't have time for me to repeat her story to you so that we can act._

"Hold on." Rising, she checked the larger cavern once more. Settling down again, she lowered her voice until he had to strain to hear her. "...I'm sorry, daddy," she muttered. "I'm sorry, but...you always said I should do what was right, didn't you? And this…she's gone all wrong, daddy. All wrong…" Then, still speaking at a low volume, she began. "My mother's name is Dr. Tracy Rae Collins. Except she wasn't a doctor when she met my dad..."

Charity's parents, it transpired, had met while attending one of the nation's more prestigious universities. Tracy Collins had been a newly-minted graduate student aiming for a doctorate in seismology; Jerome Symon was a post-doctoral researcher in applied physics. They met not in the lab or the classroom, but at the American Red Cross, where both donated as much of their limited spare time as they could.

It didn't take long for them to discover that they shared a burning passion for helping people in need, particularly those who had suffered in disasters, whether they were natural or man-made. Once that was established their relationship progressed quickly, and they married less than a year after their first date. Jerome finished his schooling and got a job that allowed him to support his wife while continuing to pursue his humanitarian efforts on the side; Tracy plugged away at her doctorate and gave out long after-dinner monologues on how there had to be a way to predict earthquakes and save lives. Overall, they were happy with one another.

Jerome had a knack for building things, and that talent plus his education led him to develop a number of simple technologies for use in large-scale crises. He invented many of them on the side, and thus held the patents in his own name. By selling them for a combination of hefty sums and promises that the items would be produced and somehow gotten to the people who needed them the most, he built up a hefty bankroll by the age of 40. Some of the extra money he earned with his weekend tinkering went into his next project, but most of it ended up in the coffers of relief organizations that he supported.

Tracy didn't mind. By that time she had quit teaching to take a position in seismic risk assessment with a private firm, and was making plenty of cash herself. Her job took her to the scene of great quakes past and present, and with every new assignment her resolve to find some way of predicting the next temblor hardened. Families torn apart, towns flattened, local economies ruined; all of those things shocked her. The only thing that startled her more, she disclosed to her husband after a repeat trip to an extremely active and extremely poor region of the planet, was the attitude of the developed world towards the affected communities.

Relief funds and supplies had poured in after the previous disaster, of course, but that had been little more than a band-aid on a bone-deep cut. Most of the money had never reached the people it was intended for, instead being diverted in the receiving nation's capital or laundered through such elaborate networks that only a tenth of the product that might have been procured ever made it to the front lines. Although the victims in this case had received enough of the basic necessities to survive, no one had seemed to care about how they were supposed to _live_. The few mental health workers who had come last time hadn't stayed long, and little or no effort had been made to restore the economy, which had been limping along on its own as best it could. As a result, the local population had been even less prepared for the second seismic disaster of the decade than they had been for the first. A culture of despair, she cursed, was the only thing flowering in the new rubble.

The only positive outcome of that trip, Tracy believed, was the stroke of genius she had had as she'd picked herself up from a particularly violent aftershock. They could measure pressure along fault lines and look at historical data to say whether or not a region was due for another quake sometime in the several hundred or thousand years, she knew – it was what she did for a living. Where the problem came in was predicting when _exactly_ that release would occur. A high-pressure fault might sit for millennia without producing anything more than a faint rumble, and the species could hardly evacuate every seismically active area of the planet 'just in case'. As the screams of the terrified and the wounded echoed in her ears, a two word answer had come into her head; _why wait_?

Why wait, indeed? If she could figure out a way to remotely trigger quakes in high-risk areas, they could be scheduled and planned out. The local people could be temporarily evacuated, saving both their lives and their psyches. Governments could not only arrange the proper amount of supplies beforehand, but could actually work the estimated costs of each quake – which would be much lower with no search and rescue needed – into their national budgets ahead of time. The money saved could be put towards repairing local infrastructure before the area's inhabitants were let back in. It would be, Tracy thought, a watershed moment in disaster relief.

Jerome agreed, and agreed furthermore to help. Abandoning all of his other side projects, he put his mind wholly to the task of triggering earthquakes from a safe distance. The solution needed to be compact, as it would have to travel to some of the most rugged areas on earth, but it also had to be powerful enough to shift billions upon billions of tons of rock. Five years into the project he quit his job, giving out the excuse that he wanted to dedicate all of his time to his charity-focused work and his newborn baby daughter.

Tracy's nightly diatribes against the bureaucracies, corporations, and wealthy individuals who let the quake-displaced citizens of less-developed countries become refugees or sink into poverty, meanwhile, grew more and more incensed. Disgusted once he saw the high prices at which some of his life saving inventions were being sold by purportedly 'people-oriented' companies, Jerome didn't take much convincing to fall in line with his wife's opinions. More determined than ever, he redoubled his already extraordinary efforts.

Then, when Charity was three, he'd done it. Through careful questioning of old colleagues in a variety of fields, Jerome had managed to put together a device no larger than a roll of paper towels that did everything he needed it to. Not only did it draw its power from the earth itself – the only engine powerful enough to drive it – but it also transformed the magnetic and geothermal energy it collected into pure force. That force was then applied to the materials around what he dubbed the 'compacting sphere', which shoved the ground or air's component atoms so close to one another that not even hydrogen could get through.

As amazing as that breakthrough was by itself, the real marvel was that the prototype was effective within a range of two hundred yards. The principal idea was that one could form the force field around the sphere and then widen it, which Tracy assured him would cause earthquakes if it was done in the correct areas. The side-effect, Jerome quickly realized, was that one could create domes of protection or isolation over cities or other important areas. If the system didn't need to be easily portable, there was really no limit to the size of force field one could make.

Once he discovered that, he hatched a scheme. When Tracy had gotten her earthquake-timing plan recognized and started up, he would patent the technology the program was using. Then he would sit on it, producing the spheres himself and selling them only to fund his own humanitarian efforts. By cutting out the middle man, he hoped he could get the vast majority of the proceeds from his life's work to the people who needed it most.

But Tracy's efforts didn't go as well as they expected. She didn't dare explain _how_ she planned to cause earthquakes – the technology in question was the sort of thing that would get them both locked up for the rest of their lives, they were sure, if they didn't prove from step one that it had been developed for peaceful purposes – and her zealotry for the idea turned many people away. A few of her fellow scientists agreed that, in theory, it was a good thought, but she was unable to hold onto their support when she refused to say how she would put the it into practice. Most, though, were disgusted as soon as the words 'cause earthquakes on purpose' hit their ears. It sounded like little more than a super-villain scheme, and rumors began to swirl that she was becoming unstable.

Despite the initial resistance, she was certain that sooner or later the geophysical community would come around to her way of thinking. With that hope guiding her, she used her job to access many of the key areas she had mapped out as prime for preemptive shaking. No one at the many borders she crossed ever questioned the strange-looking little machines she carried, which she always listed simply as 'seismology equipment'. With Jerome's careful instructions to guide her, she installed dozens of compacting spheres around the globe without anyone ever suspecting a thing.

Five years into the creation of her network, the hammer fell. Although she'd become more careful over the years about who she discussed her idea with, new national security protocols landed her file squarely in the 'undesirable' drawer. She was let go, her credentials revoked, her name blackened, and her whack-brained project hypothetically dead. Had she not had half a decade of preparation, it might have truly been the end of it. As it was, though, there was just one more sphere she wanted to put into place, and Jerome could get her to where she wanted to put it.

While Tracy had been out globetrotting, her husband had been making early moves towards launching the relief organization he intended to fund with his impermeable domes. Given that background, it wasn't a stretch for them to draw on their substantial personal funds and put together a small cargo plane worth of humanitarian supplies. They flew overseas and made the long trek into the middle of nowhere on the credit of their good deed, bringing Charity with them in the hopes that she, now eight, would begin to understand not only the scope of the problem her parents had been tackling their entire lives but also the importance of working towards a solution.

She had gone along willingly, just happy to have both of her parents around for more than a few weeks at a time. She could remember, she shared quietly, the day they 'went on a hike' together. It was a dangerous area, and the villagers had tried to get them to take a guide, but they'd refused. Late that morning she had watched as her mother buried the last of the compacting spheres several feet deep in a sunlit hillside, her face beatific as she patted the dirt back into place.

"I thought she was an angel in that moment," Charity whispered drily, almost choking as she remembered. "She was so beautiful, and...and I believed that what she was doing would save so many people. So many innocent lives..." She ducked her head. "It might have, to be fair. If people had given her plan a chance, it really might have. But they didn't listen, and then...and then...

"And then dad got sick, and no one would help. No one from outside could get to us, and the villagers were afraid – they said he'd been cursed by something in the hills, said he'd committed some unknown crime against the spirits of the mountain – and refused to help. Mother says it was encephalitis, but they...they pushed us away. They isolated us, and he...he died." She paused. "He died, and then mom lost her goddamn mind."


	41. Chapter 41

"...You were pretty young when it happened," Tim commented quietly in the silence that followed.

"He shouldn't have died," she shivered in reply. "And he certainly shouldn't have died like that, confused and seizing in that...that _stupid_ little isolation hut they forced us into. I didn't want to watch, you know?" Her voice dropped as if she were sharing a great secret. "I didn't want to, but there was only one room, and mother..."

"Your mother made you?" he ventured a guess.

"Y-yes. She said...she said it was important that I see the sort of pain people make each other go through because of their own selfishness. She said it would help me understand, but-"

"But it wasn't a lesson. It was just your father dying horribly in front of you."

Charity just nodded, her face pinched and tear-damp. "...Yes," she managed after a minute. "Yes."

He glanced over at his brother, sure that the girl's having lost a parent at the same age he had lost both of his would get him to look up from his fake slumber. The older man gave no sign of wakefulness, however, and Tim frowned. _What the hell, Dick? Help me out here. This should be your territory..._

With a vague worry thrumming in the back of his mind – it wasn't like Dick not to respond to a tale of woe – he focused on the conversation again. They needed to strike soon, before Dr. Collins could set off the New Madrid fault; if he acted without knowing what had been going on in the ten years since Jerome had died, though, he would be missing a piece of the puzzle, a crucial piece, possibly. He couldn't risk it. "So...you said your mom kind of lost it after that?" he pressed gently.

"Oh...well, yeah. She...I didn't think there was anything going on at first," Charity said, wiping at her eyes. "I thought...I thought we were just going to be normal. We went home together, mom and I, and for a while things were okay. She home-schooled me like dad had done. I told her I wanted to meet other kids, but she didn't give me the choice. She said I was all she had left, and that she wanted to keep me close, and...well, how could I argue with that?

"It was better at first than it had been before our trip, except for dad not being there. But she started talking about causing earthquakes again six months after he died. I didn't know, Tim," she begged. "I didn't know that she was mad at _everyone_ after what happened to dad. Those villagers were the sort of people she was trying to help with her plan, and they wouldn't give us so much as an extra blanket. She never forgave them, I realize now. She wanted – wants, I guess – revenge. What she told me, though, was that we had to prove how well the system worked so that the scientific community would pay attention and take her plan seriously. She told me...she told me that we had to work so that the whole world would know how brilliant daddy had been. I believed her. I didn't know...

"She'd found this place," she waved an arm to indicate the cavern, "on a hiking trip that she and dad took for one of their anniversaries before I was born. I don't know if she thought that it would make her feel closer to him to base herself here, like he was still involved, or if it was just convenient, but...well, she picked this place, anyway. It took a long time for us to set all of the equipment up and make sure it was working right. We had to bring it in a bit at a time, you know? But-"

"Wait," Tim stopped her. "How...how did you get everything back here without anyone at the park office being suspicious? And what...what _is_ all of that machinery out there, anyway?"

For a moment Charity almost looked proud. "Mother's no applied physicist, but she's not an idiot, either. This is a seismically active area; all she had to do was get forged USGS credentials, and we were in. Nobody in park administration questions stuff like that, you know? You print out an official-looking badge with your name, photo, and the right logo on it, and you're in."

"…Oh." _So much for homeland security,_ he sighed.

"The park director didn't raise an eyebrow, at least. She told him that she would be flying in some sensitive measuring equipment and staying back here for several weeks at a time with it. He didn't mind; it was all in the name of science, right?" Charity snorted. "Fool. He could have brought her down with one phone call, and he didn't so much as lift a finger. So every summer we brought back another helicopter load of supplies; plywood for walls, dehydrated food, daddy's machines. He'd still been working on his dome project when he died, and-" she broke off. "You know about the force field around us, right?"

"Uh..." He waffled, trying to decide whether or not to lie to her. If he didn't, a part of their 'no-nothing hikers' facade would be destroyed; on the other hand, she'd already told him so much that she probably wouldn't care what they'd come in knowing. "...Yeah. We tried to walk out after the earthquake, and we bumped into it."

"Okay. I figured, but you never know. So...it's the biggest dome he ever managed to get working. It's not nearly as easy to carry around as the quake network spheres are, obviously, but we got all the pieces here in a couple of trips. It was the last thing we brought in other than ourselves; mom didn't want to risk something happening to it or someone else stumbling into the cave while we were gone. The other stuff we could replace if we had to, but the dome and the radio tower, they were essential."

_Radio tower?_ Tim bit back a frown. That _was_ what the huge silver structure outside had appeared to be, but it didn't make sense. If signals couldn't get past the force field, what was the point of having a radio tower? Charity had gone on, though, so he held his questions.

"I was starting to get an inkling then that what we were doing was...well...questionable, at the very least. I asked her why we needed the protection of a force field if our project would help people. She had a lot of different reasons, but none of them really rang true. I ignored it, though. I mean, she's my mother. I don't have anyone else in the world, and I thought...I thought I could trust her. I still thought she was an angel..."

She shook her head, seeming to banish a bad thought. "Anyway, we got everything in finally. Last fall she told me that it was time to show the world daddy's genius, and we came here on her fake USGS pass again. No more equipment, no more supplies, just us and a couple bags of personal stuff. She told the park we were helicoptering in and back out, like normal, but she told the helicopter pilot that we were going to walk out after our work was done. Our stuff was in hiking backpacks and we had a history in the area, so again, nobody questioned it.

"It took months to get everything set up. The radio tower was the easy part; all we had to do was find a safe place for it where it wouldn't stick out when it was folded down. That's my father's invention, too," a faintly beaming smile crossed her lips. "The whole idea with the spheres was to trigger them remotely, so he made a collapsible tower that was tall enough to get the triggering signal to a satellite even in rough terrain. All we had to do once it was in place was make sure no one saw it until the dome was in place.

"Mom started running tests as soon as it was up. It had been fifteen years since she'd planted the earliest parts of her network, and she wasn't sure they would all still work. She made them all produce small quakes, one at a time, always working on cloudy nights to keep anyone from seeing. She didn't want to risk clustering the trials, so it took forever to run through them all. Two weeks ago she tested the last one, and then last week...last week we finally got the dome finished."

"It took that long to put back together?" Tim boggled. He didn't expect to find that the compacting sphere was a simple piece of machinery if he ever got his hands on one – what it did certainly wasn't simple, at least – but nine months seemed a bit excessive.

But Charity was shaking her head. "It wasn't the above-ground machinery that was the problem. The little spheres, the ones that just have to produce one quick force field to push at plate boundaries, they don't need nearly as much power. Just burying them in the ground and letting their batteries charge is enough. Some places take longer than others to fully power up because of variations in the magnetic field and local geothermals, but after that it's ready to go. The dome, though...the dome is constant. The dome can't flicker and go out when it's time for a recharge – it has to have a constant flow of power."

"Wait, wait, wait," Tim breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. There was only one source of geothermal energy he could think of that would provide the sort of power that Charity seemed to be saying was required, but it couldn't be… "You don't mean...you didn't tap into a magma pocket, did you? Like..._the_ magma pocket?" _Please, please say no. Nothing will __ever__ break through the force field if it's drawing off of a supervolcano…_

But a happy grin broke across the girl's face. "You guessed it!" she cheered, then immediately sobered. "...Sorry. I suppose I shouldn't really be happy about that, considering, but...it _is_ amazing, isn't it?"

He was impressed despite his best efforts not to be, and couldn't argue. "Your mom might be trying to destroy the world, Charity, but...that's some amazing science, right there. How...?"

"I don't know the specifics," she shook her head. "She wouldn't let me near the actual drilling. There's a fissure further back in the cave that she pushed deeper to get a more regular flow, but all I was allowed to do was run the computer from here and shout readings at her. I've never even seen where the feed goes into the ground.

"Anyway...we finally got it hooked up. We were supposed to time it so that there wouldn't be anyone trapped inside with us, but after all those months – years, really – of waiting and working towards her goal, she couldn't help herself. Once the dome's system was ready she just refused to hold off any longer.

"The problem was that she'd never operated one of the domes; that had been dad's department. She knew how to manipulate the earthquake-causing spheres, though, and she assumed that the dome would work the same way. It...sort of did," she winced, "we got the dome up, at least, but...it wasn't supposed to cause that awful earthquake."

Tim's jaw dropped. "The quake here was an _accident_?!" _You've got to be shitting me. All the hell we've gone through in the last few days, and you're telling me she didn't even __mean__ it?!_

She gave him a scathing look. "Of course it was an accident. Who sets off a massive temblor right under their own feet? We're lucky it didn't destroy the equipment or collapse the whole cave right on top of us. Well..._she's_ lucky, I guess. I'm not such a fan of this project anymore; I kind of wish everything _had_ buried us in here."

There, finally, was the confirmation he needed that Charity might truly be able to be won over to his side. "Why's that?" he asked as carefully as he could.

"…Look, I believe in her idea, okay?" The girl raised one hand from her gun to her lips and began to gnaw at her fingernails. "I really think that scheduled quakes could save a _lot_ of lives. Daddy believed that, and I do too. But what she's doing now...the only person who knows the schedule is her. She won't even tell me more than one at a time. And she's not warning anyone, she's just striking. We were supposed to help people, not murder them, but she's…" She turned her head away. "...That's why I said what I said earlier, about not killing you once I told you the story. I'm not a murderer – I'm not like her – and I don't want to be."

Her eyes were full of guilty tears as she met his gaze once more. "I know I'm technically complicit in all of the deaths she's causing, but it wasn't my fault, Tim. Please, _please_ believe that it wasn't my fault. I could have told someone earlier, or tried to sabotage it, or...or _something_, but...but it was supposed to be a good thing. It was supposed to save lives, not take them. She's...she's my _mother, _and I...I trusted her..."

* * *

**Author's Note: As many of you have no doubt guessed, this is all taking place in/around the area we know as Yellowstone. As a fun little visual, I've added an infographic about the Yellowstone Hotspot (magma pocket) on my blog. A request was made to know the name of the game I've been asked to write, as well, so I'll also post that. Happy reading! **


	42. Chapter 42

When the tears that followed that betrayed statement had tapered off, Charity glanced at her watch. "...She'll be awake soon," she sniffled. "She'll be awake, and she'll set off the New Madrid sphere."

Tim weighed his chances. On the one hand the girl was, as she had said, technically complicit in the whole scheme, and could turn on him with a vengeance at what he wanted to suggest. At the same time, though, she seemed to honestly feel and regret what her mother was doing. If Dick would just stir – he cast a fresh glance towards the other man, but again saw no signs of wakefulness – he might be able to tell him whether or not the wetness on Charity's cheeks had been caused by crocodile tears. _I don't have your people sense, damn it,_ he groaned as he returned his attention to the young woman across from him. _Help me!_

"...You could still stop her," he risked.

She laughed helplessly. "No I can't. I don't know how. She's never let me run the machinery, _never_. I only know what I've told you because she told me that much. She said...she said she wanted me to appreciate my father's genius, and her own, as well, so that when this was all over I could tell...I could tell the world..." A few seconds passed as she buried her face in her hands again. "The only person who can stop her now is herself, and she never will. This is her life's work, don't you see?"

The fact that Charity didn't know how to run the controls despite her detailed knowledge of the science behind the system wasn't good, but Tim persevered. "We can figure it out," he urged. "I'm pretty good with computers, and once we can get to the screens you'll probably feel things start clicking in your head, things she's mentioned in passing. We can do this, if we work together." _We have to,_ he gulped. _We have to, or a __lot__ more innocent people are going to die._

"I've already _tried_," she protested. "Not with the computer, obviously – I think messing with that is the one thing that would actually get my own mother to...to k-kill me – but through her. Didn't you hear us arguing earlier? I've been trying to get her to stop ever since I realized that she wasn't giving out warnings, but she _won't_. And if I force it...if I force it she'll hate me forever. She'll never forgive me."

He took a deep breath, trying to hold onto his quickly waning patience. "I know that's an unpleasant thought, Charity, but one person hating you can't be worth more than millions of lives."

She stared at him, her sodden expression giving him a sense of the battle being waged in her heart. "...She's my mom," she whispered. "I...I don't have anyone else."

"Yeah," he nodded sadly. "It sounds like she made sure of that by keeping you isolated all of these years."

The girl's head turned aside as if she'd been slapped again. "It wasn't like that. She just...she just wanted to keep me safe, and close to her."

He opened his mouth to retort, but she straightened and held up her hand for quiet before he could get a word out. "...What?" he asked when a moment had passed.

"She's awake. I hear her moving around out there." Dabbing her face dry, Charity tried to compose herself for her mother's arrival.

Tim didn't bother to pretend he was sleeping as footsteps drew near outside, but instead stretched as best as he could and began wiggling his fingers behind his back again. If Charity wasn't going to help him take down her mother then so be it, but her reticence couldn't be allowed to hold him back any longer. He had what information he was going to be able to get from their captors, and now it was time to prepare for action. _Wake __up__, Dick,_ he pleaded silently as Tracy Collins entered the room. _Even if Charity won't shoot us in defense of her mother,I'm going to need your help to take crazy down..._

"Is everything all right back here?" the older woman inquired.

"Yes, mother."

Seeing that Tim's eyes were open, Tracy's narrowed. "You haven't told him anything, have you?"

"...No. We talked about other things."

"Damn it, Charity, I _told_ you-"

"I just wanted to talk to someone who wasn't _you_, mother!"

"They're outsiders! They can't possibly understand people like us!"

"What, other humans?" Tim broke in coldly.

Charity looked over at that, but Tracy ignored him. "You must be tired," she ruled dismissively. "Your eyes are red as if you are, and that would explain your fractiousness. Let me set off New Madrid, and then you can get some sleep."

"Mother!" Charity called her back just before she exited. Her face had become hard again, just like right before she'd started sharing her story, and Tim had to stop himself from drawing an eager breath. He didn't know what the last straw had been for the girl – the childish way her mother was treating her, perhaps, or the way Tracy had spoken of setting off a major earthquake as if she was just going to take out the garbage – but he could see that she had come to a decision of some sort.

"Yes?" the older woman replied without looking back.

"...Thank you."

"Of course, sweetheart." And then she was gone, the jaunty tune she'd begun to hum lingering in the air behind her.

"I _hate_ that stupid song," Charity snarled when they were alone and Tracy's noise had receded. "She hums it every time..."

"What was it?" Tim asked. It had been familiar, but he hadn't been able to place it exactly. Humming mass murderers, while not a new experience for him, were still relatively rare; he was curious as to what one other than the Joker might think was an appropriate preface to a crime against humanity.

"'Shake, Rattle, and Roll,'" the girl answered. "She loves Elvis."

_Ugh. How cliché,_ he grimaced. "She knows that setting off New Madrid is probably going to leave Graceland a pile of rubble, right?"

"Oh, she knows. But she's never liked Graceland. She says that they should liquidate the place and give all the proceeds to charity."

"...Oookay then." He shook his head. "Listen, Charity-"

"Do you _really_ think we can do it, Tim?" she cut him off. "Do...do you really think that we could stop her if we...well...if we work together?"

"I think we have to at least _try. _Don't you?"

She ducked her head. "...Daddy wouldn't have wanted this," she murmured. "Daddy would have hated what she's become. Daddy would _never_ have killed innocent people like she has. But..."

"But what?"

"But daddy wouldn't have wanted her to die, either. I won't kill her," she warned, looking up. "I just won't. And if you do, or your...what is he, anyway, your brother?"

"Yeah."

"I thought so. You look enough alike. But if either of you kill her, I'll never forgive you. She's doing terrible things, I know, but...she's still my mom."

"We won't kill her, Charity," he swore. It was the first thing he'd been able promise her with certainty, and she must have picked up on it because she smiled.

"Then we'd better hurry. There's a twenty minute timer once she sets everything going, and that won't take long."

"You'll help us?" He felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards as the attraction he'd felt the moment he saw her flooded his veins once more. If she came over to their side there was a chance that they could get to know each other better when this was all behind them, he thought wildly. There were a lot of places in the world that she'd never seen; maybe they could go to some of them together. That was assuming that they stopped the earthquakes and survived Tracy's wrath, he allowed as she untethered him from the hook overhead and began to work on his bindings, but a guy could hope.

"...Is that a sufficient yes?" she asked when he was free. Trying to rub some feeling back into his arms, he stood up. They were mere inches apart, and while he would normally be a stuttering idiot at this proximity to a pretty girl he found that it didn't really bother him when it was Charity he was close to. Maybe it was because he'd seen her cry so much in the last eight hours; maybe it was because her forced isolation had made her as socially awkward as he was; maybe it was just the way her lip quivered as she, too, realized what little space separated them. It didn't matter – he liked it, regardless of the reason.

"I'll take it," he agreed. Would it be weird to lean in and kiss her when they were about to embark on a mission to save the world? It would be a waste of time, yes, but how much time was an opportunity like this one worth? He ran through every action movie he'd ever seen, calculating percentages. If he was remembering correctly the hero usually _did_ kiss the love interest, but not until later. Still, he wanted to, and seeing as how one or both of them might very well die before the end of the day...

_What would Dick do?_ rang in his head suddenly. _If she was Barbara and I was him, what would happen?_ He knew the answer; his brother would take full advantage of the situation even though Barbara would surely give him a good-natured smack him for his impertinence. _And Charity's not Barbara,_ he mused. _She's not Barbara at all, and I'd just bet she's never been kissed..._

It was dangerous, and foolhardy, and he would have to watch the doorway over Charity's shoulder lest Tracy come back in and catch them, but he leaned in anyway. The shotgun that was still cradled in the girl's arms tried to act as a barrier, but he ignored its cool metal touch and pulled her nearer. _Thanks for keeping your eyes closed, Dick,_ he thought as their lips met. _I really, really appreciate it..._

* * *

**Author's Note: For those of you who aren't familiar with the tune that Tracy was humming, I've posted it on my blog. See you Monday!**


	43. Chapter 43

Somehow he was both sweating and shivering at the same time, but that couldn't possibly be right. His hands were so numb that he thought for a moment they'd been amputated, and every bone south of his left hip had been replaced by a rod of aching agony. Topping everything off was a steady, throbbing headache and the gross cold-but-clammy feeling that had roused him to begin with. _...What the heck happened...?_

Confused, Dick swam the last little ways towards consciousness and peeked out at the world. The low light revealed rock walls, a dusty floor, and there, standing beside a small pile of tangled cord, two people sharing a rather private moment. _Oh yeah,_ he thought as the events of the last several days came rushing back to him. _Death and destruction. I remember now. _The pair broke apart with an audible parting of lips, and he shut his eyes again hastily. _...Way to go, Timmy, _he smirked to himself._ It's about time you got the girl. Even if she __is__ the villain's daughter._

A familiar groan told him that he'd been caught. "Diiick..."

"Sorry, little brother," he apologized, his voice coming out hoarse. "I swear I didn't mean to look at that _exact_ moment. I just didn't know what was going on."

"Well, at least you were awake for everything," Tim sighed as he stepped away from the girl and came closer. "I was starting to get worried. Plus, we don't really have time to rehash everything Charity just went over."

"Wait," Charity frowned. "...You were faking being asleep? What...?"

There was a note of distrust in her tone, but Dick didn't have to lie in order to soothe it. "No. I, uh...I actually _wasn't_ faking it. Sorry, Tim," he directed at his gaping sibling. "The last thing I remember, her mom was still in here."

"How did you sleep through all of that?! Oh..." The younger man's hand came into contact with the bare skin between Dick's bandaged calf and his sock, and his expression creased with concern. "Jesus, you're burning up!"

"Am I? That would explain this cold sweat I'm sitting in." A beat passed as they exchanged a significant look. "At least it held off until now. We'd really have been screwed if you'd had to drag me the last few miles."

"What's wrong?" Charity asked, finally stepping near.

"He's got a fever," Tim reported, his mouth tightening into a passable imitation of a Batman grimace.

Dick felt a cool, feminine palm land on his forehead. "Nice to meet you, too," he joked weakly.

"...Useless," the girl muttered, pulling away. "What are we supposed to do _now? _We can't carry him very sneakily._"_

"Hey, hey, hey," he squirmed, trying to straighten up against the wall. "I'm not useless just because I have a fever, okay? I can still help." Tim reached up and released the rope holding his wrists between his shoulder blades. "Ooh, ow...tingles," he winced as blood flooded back into his senseless fingers. "Anyway...you're on our side now, right?"

"'Our side'?" Her eyebrows shot up. "If you were asleep the entire time, how are you even aware we have a side?"

_Clever girl. No wonder he likes you. _"How could we _not_ have a side?" he shrugged back as his hands were made completely free. "I mean...we _are_ trying to escape from here, right? If so, I have to assume that that wasn't a farewell kiss I just got an accidental eyeful of."

Charity was visibly irritated, but her hackles dropped slightly as she accepted his explanation. "Escape...is that the first thing you think of, is running away and saving your own skin? What, are you _that_ concerned about raising a fuss over not being the only people back here this week? We have to stop my mother first, before she kills anyone else. Escape..." She seemed to deflate a little. "...Escape is secondary."

"Look," Tim sighed as he worked on the ropes binding his brother's ankles, "Charity, let up on Dick, okay? First of all, he wasn't awake for the story, so he doesn't know what your mother's been up to. Second, you don't know him. I know you already kind of don't like him, but trust me, you should." Finished with his task, he regained his feet and turned to face her. "I promise, he's not the kind of person you think he is."

She blinked at Tim for a long second, her features contorted. "...If he's going to help us, then I will take your word for it," she ruled slowly.

"Well, that settles that," Dick pitched in. "Help me up, Timmy." He couldn't entirely hold back a low moan as he rose and his head began to spin. "Oooh, crap," he reached for his temple with his free hand. "Not good..."

Tim was tucked in tight against him almost instantly, supporting him as he swayed. "...Charity, can you get his stick?"

"I can, but we have to be quiet. If she hears us-"

"She won't," Dick forced out. _Sort yourself out, Grayson. This is the final push, and you can't let Timmy do it on his own. _Gritting his teeth against the nausea that seeing everything double was causing, he went on. "I can be quiet, even with a limp. What's the plan?"

She considered him for a moment. "...Tim?"

"I trust him with my life. You can, too."

"I don't suppose I have much of a choice," she gave in, then moved to fetch the makeshift crutch from the corner it had been propped up in. "Here."

"Excellent." Taking it, he repeated his question. "The plan?"

"...She'll be at the terminal," Charity explained. "Once she starts the timer she always waits until the quake occurs, just in case there are problems. I'll confront her there. You two should hang back while I talk to her. If...if she won't listen again, then maybe seeing that we have superior numbers will get her to back down."

"Are you sure you want to go up alone?" Tim asked, his voice heavy. "She's not likely to change her mind, you said it yourself."

"I know, but…I think I have to. I just...I just want to give her one more chance to stop on her own, okay?" she begged. "I know she won't but…I have to try. It's...it's important."

Dick and Tim shared another glance, but neither objected. "You know her better than we do," Dick agreed, trying to work himself back into her good graces now that the need for guile had almost past. "If that's what you think is best, then let's do it."

Charity stayed at the entrance to the side cavern while the men crept out and took up positions in the shadows nearby. Dick stopped as soon as he could safely do so, trying to ignore the urge to scream that had assaulted him with every step. _Gotta do this,_ he coached himself through each sickening lurch. _Batman's waiting. If we can just get this lady out of the way we can disable to force field and let him in..._ A vision of himself lying in his safe, warm, comfortable bed at home, Alfred leaning over him with a cup of tea while Bruce hovered impatiently nearby, filled his mind. _Mm...that. I want that._

Only Charity's determined footsteps were enough to break through the daydream. She stalked past him, headed straight for her mother with the shotgun still in her arms. They should have taken the weapon away, he realized belatedly. Catching Tim's eye, he signed as much to him. But Tim shook his head and replied that the girl wouldn't use it, and that it would have looked strange for her to leave it behind. '...I hope you're right,' he sent back. 'A murderess wouldn't look so great on your arm at the Christmas Ball.'

'Tell me about it...'

A one-word address rang through the cave, putting an end to their conversation. "Mother."

"...Charity, what are you doing? I told you to keep watch on the outsiders for just a few more minutes. I'm almost done here; go back until I come for you."

"Mother, stop this."

"Stop...oh, child, how many times do we have to go over this?" An exasperated _harrumph_ sounded. "This is for your own good!"

"What about everyone else's good? What about all the people who have died in your earthquakes?"

"Their loss is unfortunate, but in the long run-" She gasped. "Don't point that at _me_!"

"'The long run'? None of them get to have a long run now, mother! Don't you understand that?!"

A tense beat passed. "...You've been talking to them, haven't you?" an accusation swelled. "I know you've felt unsettled about the project lately, but open rebellion...this is unexpected. I knew I should have killed them before you ever laid eyes on them."

"You wouldn't have. You wouldn't have killed them at close range, and in cold blood," Charity rebutted. "You clearly prefer to do your murdering in bulk and from a great distance."

"Charity, I will say this one time, and one time only. I love you, and I understand that your head's been turned by one or the other of them – I was young once too, you know, and they're both quite attractive, so I understand – but you need to stand down. Think about everything we've worked for, honey. Think about the years we've spent preparing. Think about what your father died for!"

"Daddy would _loathe_ what you've become!"

Leaning against the stalagmite that was shielding him from view, Dick winced. He didn't have to know the story that the girl had shared with Tim in order to pick up on the ireful pain in her outburst. To lose one parent and then watch the other turn into a serial killer...he could certainly feel for the young woman embroiled in the stand-off. At the same time he couldn't help but wonder if his brother had fallen for someone whose personal issues might be insurmountable when all was said and done.

There was no time for him to dwell on that question, however, because the high, clear _click_ of a gun safety being turned off had just reached his ears. _Shit,_ he straightened, clawing at his crutch. _Timmy!_ he hissed mentally as his brother slipped out of his safe spot and began to make his way towards the women. _No! _

"...I thought you might threaten to kill me if I turned on you," Charity's wondering voice washed over him. "What do you think daddy would say if he saw us now, pointing guns at each other?"

"He would agree with me that you need to listen to your elders," the older woman growled. "Put the gun down. You can sit tied up with your lover-boy until you see reason."

"No. _You_ put the gun down."

"Why should I surrender myself to the idiotic morals of a knows-it-all-but-has-seen-nothing teenager? I raised you to be smarter than that."

"Because you're outnumbered," Tim announced himself. "And because you know what you're doing is wrong." He paused. "...Don't point that gun at her, Tracy. You have no right."

Dick didn't need to be able to see to know that their opponent would obey his little brother's imperative by turning the weapon on him. "Shit, Timmy," he muttered, glancing around. There was no way he could get to him in time to push him out of the way if she fired, he knew. _I would give anything for a Batarang right about now,_ he griped as he groped up a baseball-sized chunk of rock from the floor and weighed it in one hand. _But I can make this work if I have to... _

"You little bitch," was sneered as he hobbled out from his own hideaway. "You untied him. You not only turned on me, you formed a coalition. I am so disappointed, Charity. So very disappointed."

He could see the tears pouring down the younger woman's cheeks, and felt a twinge of sympathy. _You really got the short end of the stick in the mom department,_ he mused as he hefted the stone he'd chosen. _Maybe you and Dami can swap stories when this is over..._ Squinting until his eyes were nearly shut, he managed to get the world down to only one copy and zeroed in on the fingers currently brandishing a pistol. _Here goes everything I've got..._

Unable to maintain his balance, he fell to the floor as soon as the projectile had left his hand. A second later there was a nasty _crunch_, followed by a high scream of pain. "You bastards!" Charity's mother shrieked. "You greedy, hormonal, child-stealing _bastards! _Why won't you let me make world a better place?!"

Raising his head, Dick saw her start towards the gun that had flown from her grasp when her wrist broke. "Charity!" Tim exclaimed in horror as the girl swung the shotgun after her. "Don't!"

There was a deafening report as the larger weapon went off. A fine rain of dust covered them all, clouding his already sketchy vision ever further. _Oh, Charity, I hope you didn't just do what I think you did... _When the air had cleared slightly, he let out a long, relieved breath; against the opposite wall lay the pistol, its metal twisted into uselessness where the slug had struck it. _...Thank god you've got a better sense for people than you think you do, Timmy. _If the girl had killed her own mother, he didn't know what they would have done.

But she hadn't, and it seemed that their adversary would have to give up now. After all, she wasn't a hardened criminal like the Joker, and there was no question that her position was untenable. Injured, unarmed, and outnumbered, there was no good way for her to keep fighting, surely.

As he dragged himself to his feet again, though, the older woman swept up a long, jagged sliver of rock and stumbled upright. "_You bastard_!" she wailed. Her face was full of righteous parental rage as she raised her rough knife above her head. "_She was my daughter!_"

And then, before anyone could react, she gave a piercing cry and threw herself onto Tim, slashing madly.


	44. Chapter 44

Dick couldn't possibly move fast enough to prevent the attack in his current state, but fortunately Tim wasn't suffering under the same handicaps. He caught the mad woman's unbroken arm easily and rolled onto his back, flipping her over and tossing her a short distance. She screamed anew as she flew through the air, then went silent when she hit the earth in a floppy-limbed tumble.

For a moment no one moved. "You didn't," Charity started, swallowing heavily, "you didn't...kill her, right?"

"No," Tim shook his head. "I can see her breathing. She should just be knocked out."

"Good," she sighed, sounding relieved.

Dick had begun moving forward as soon as Tracy had charged. Reaching the others now, he stretched out his free hand and gripped his brother's elbow. "You okay?" he asked, scanning him for fresh injuries.

"Yeah. I got her out of the way before she could touch me." His mouth turned down as Dick swayed gently against his crutch. "How's your head?"

"Everything's cloned itself twice," he replied as he tried to blink the new copy away. "It would be trippy if it didn't make me want to puke." The truth, he noted immediately, didn't make Tim look any happier. Before the younger man could suggest that he go sit down, however, he forged ahead. "I'll check Dr. Shakes over there. You two take a look at the machinery."

"Are you _sure-"_

"I'm sure, Alfred." Giving him a weak grin, he punched at his shoulder playfully. He missed on his first attempt, which didn't help Tim's expression any, but managed to connect the second time. "Ah-ha. So _that _one isthe real you. Kidding," he added quickly, hobbling away before he could be forced to rest. "Just kidding."

The geophysicist didn't so much as twitch when he knelt clumsily beside her. So far as he could tell she was fine other than a lump on her forehead and the strange way her knee had twisted beneath her. The latter injury was unpleasant to look at, but it didn't seem likely to cause her permanent damage. "Lucky you," he commented as he straightened the limb out. "You're a heck of a lot better off than your victims, lady. Remember that when you wake up."

He thought about tying her up, but pushed the idea away after a bit of thought. They'd left the cord back in the side cave, and she seemed to be down for the count besides. The time it would take for him to retrieve the rope and bind her would be much better spent trying to help save lives in New Madrid, he decided, and dragged himself to his feet once more. "How's it going?" he asked as he approached the work zone. "...Is this the thing that makes the earthquakes?"

"Wait, if you were asleep-" Charity began.

"A little bird told me," he cut her off. "...Tim?"

Tim didn't look back as he answered. "Not so hot. And yes, it is. Unfortunately the system is completely unintuitive, and we're not exactly overburdened with time."

Dick glanced up at the small blue glow of the system's timer. _Fifteen minutes,_ he winced. _No, that's really not long to sort out a completely unfamiliar program as complicated as this one must be._ "You can do it, little brother," he encouraged, keeping his true thoughts to himself. "If anyone can do it, you can."

"The residents of New Madrid had better hope that your confidence isn't ill-placed," Charity said tightly.

He met her skeptical gaze with a firm look of his own. "It isn't. Tim's the best," he asserted.

"Hmm...well, we'll see for sure soon, won't we?"

"Yes, we will. And even if you can't stop New Madrid," he turned back to his pursed-lipped sibling, "at least you've made sure there won't be any more new quakes after that."

"Yeah, but..."

"...Yeah," he commiserated, well aware of the emotions the other man was feeling at the prospect of failure. "But. I know."

They all stared at the console for several silent minutes. Dick couldn't even venture an intelligent guess as to how most of it worked, and while Charity managed a few decent suggestions Tim was the only one who dared to touch the many knobs and levers in an attempt to make the ticking clock stop. Only when a groan sounded from behind them did they look around. "Hey," Dick frowned at the now-sitting Dr. Collins. "You're supposed to be knocked out. Lay down and stay down."

"Come and make me, you pathetic, self-centered piece of shit," she spat back.

"Bitch," Tim muttered angrily beside him.

Dick just sighed. "I'll deal with her. You two keep working on this," he directed, and limped forward. Tracy got her good leg underneath of her in the meantime, and immediately sought to get to the control board. "I'm thinking not," he said, using his crutch to sweep her feet out from under her as she tried to hop by.

"I'm unarmed, you brutish asshole!" she accused from the ground.

He laughed mirthlessly. "Unarmed? Lady, I don't know exactly how many people you've killed with your supposed lack of armament, but I'm guessing you've secured yourself a spot in the history books alongside all the best-known dictators and homicidal maniacs. Given that, I'm not in any hurry to treat you like you're unarmed."

Hissing, she began to crawl backwards. She was moving away from the computers, but he followed her anyway. There was no reason to think that she didn't have another gun secreted around the cavern somewhere, and Dick had no intention of letting her get to it. "Knock it off," he advised. "It's over."

"It's _not_ over!" she denied, scrambling upright again. The leg that had been contorted beneath her earlier hovered above the floor, touching down every few seconds to help her stay stable. Her eyes still blazed with rage, but they were full of tears now, too. "It's _never_ over!"

"Got it!" Tim cried triumphantly as Charity squealed. Dick didn't need to look back to know that the girl had kissed his brother again as a reward for his success; the expression on her mother's face told him everything.

"You _traitor_," she blurted out. "We did so much – _I _did so much – to give you a better world in which to live, and this is the thanks I get?"

"Mother, this has to stop-"

"_You_ have to stop, Charity! You have to stop! Stop living in this fantasy world where people are well-intentioned and willing to help each other. It's a _lie_, girl, a simple lie!"

"It's not a lie," Dick disagreed. "This is just the first chance Charity's had to see that for herself."

"She doesn't agree with you, damn it!"

"I _do_ agree!" Charity shouted back. "Daddy would want me to agree, and I _do_!"

Tracy froze, her mouth agape. The moisture that had been building up in her eyes was suddenly too much to be held back, and the twin flows succumbed to gravity. "...Then you really _are_ no child of mine," she whispered. "No child of mine." With that she turned away and started gimping towards the exit.

_Wow._ Dick stood for a second, stunned. He could hear Charity sobbing behind him, her whimpers overpowering Tim's quiet attempts to soothe her. _What a colossal hag._ "I'm going after her," he announced.

"Dick, don't," his brother protested. "Stay here. I should be able to get through the force field pretty fast now that I've figured out how the system works. She won't get far."

He shook his head. "It's too risky." Would it have occurred to her to wire the cave to self-destruct? Somehow he wouldn't put it past her. Someone who could disown their own child as easily as she just had didn't seem likely to mind the thought of trashing another piece of their life's work if it failed or was at risk of becoming a turncoat. "...Keep working. I'll see you soon."

"...Right. Well...good luck. And _be careful_."

"You know it, little brother."

As a result of Tim's defensive move Tracy was now only slightly faster than Dick. While he wasn't able to catch up with his left leg dragging uselessly along and everything presenting itself in twos and threes, he did manage to get a glimpse of her every few turns. It was solace enough for him, since so long as she was moving she wasn't re-arming herself or setting anything off. He tagged along doggedly through the entirety of the entrance tunnel, hoping that he would miraculously discover Batman working his way up from the other end. _C'mon, Bruce,_ he begged as he had to pause for a moment to hold back his bile. _I'm about tapped out, here._

No relief came, though, and before long he found himself standing in the open air at the top of the hidden staircase. It was dark out, but there was enough moon to let him see his quarry almost fall off of the bottom step. Tilting his head back, he found the tiny lights at the ends of the Batplane's wings. They would be indistinguishable from stars to anyone who didn't know better, but at the moment the fact that they were still a thousand feet above him was far more important than the efficiency with which they were cloaking the jet. _Hurry, Timmy. Get that force field down. Please hurry..._

On more than one occasion during his descent he very nearly went crashing to the exposed rocks below. _Not gonna die tonight_, he reminded himself, hugging the wall after each close call. _Can't do that. Tracy could get away, and Bruce... _No. Bruce didn't need to see that happen. Besides, after the clusterfuck their hike had turned into he owed Tim a much more sedate, villain-free vacation; he had to live, and he had to keep going.

When he finally reached the foot of the dried-up falls, he glanced around for the fleeing woman. She had stopped, he found when he spotted her, and was hunched over something. As he drew closer he realized that she was rummaging through the backpack she had forced Tim to abandon beneath the river-carved cliffs. There could be no doubt that she was searching for a weapon, and Dick knew she would find one in the form of their camp hatchet. Stopping a prudent distance away, he called out to her. "Tracy, stop this. It's over."

She didn't answer.

"Charity loves you," he tried a different tack. "She begged us not to kill you. Even after everything that's happened, I'm sure she'll forgive you." No response. "You're eventually going to be handed over to people who will hurt you if you try to resist. Don't make her see you like that, Tracy. Please, think about your daug-"

"_I have no daughter_!" her shriek rent the night. "You've taken her from me and turned her into my enemy!"

A cool breeze washed over them before he could do more than open his mouth to reply. An instant later he realized that he could hear the Batplane's engines, distant but growing nearer. A ridiculous grin stretched across his lips as he swelled with pride. _Yes! Tim the Boy Genius; that's my little brother..._

The force field, after a week in place, had been dissolved.

"_Nooo!"_ Tracy squealed as she, too, realized what had happened. "Damn you, Charity! Damn you, and damn him who has taken you from me!" Her stare locked onto Dick, and she bared her teeth. "And _you_! Encouraging them, and...and..._I'll kill you!_" She'd found the hatchet, he saw, and was brandishing it menacingly as she staggered towards him. "If I have to tear this entire planet apart, I will kill you _both_ for taking my daughter from me!"

He made to back away, but managed only a step before the world shivered under his feet and threw him down. For a moment he panicked, thinking that the woman had somehow triggered another massive quake despite being far from the control center of her dastardly empire. Then he heard a wet, violent rushing sound, and everything clicked into place.

_The river,_ he recalled the conversation that he and Tim had had on the banks of the strange hovering lake a few days before. _If it was held back by the force field, and the force field's gone now..._ How much water was roaring towards them at this very moment? Too much, he winced. Too much, and they were both so far from anything like a safe zone...

"Tracy!" he hollered at the disheveled figure that was still clawing along the ground towards him, hatchet gleaming dimly in the moonlight. "Get behind the biggest rock you can! The water's coming back!" She tried to stand up despite the fact that the earth was shaking worse with each passing second, and immediately fell. "Tracy!"

He tried to crawl towards her, intent on disarming her and dragging her as near to safety as he could, but it was too late. Everything was moving of its own accord, and as if that wasn't bad enough he was still seeing it all in duplicate and triplicate. "Ugh," he moaned as his stomach gave a miserable lurch. Had there been anything in it to come up he would have been sick; instead he merely retched and then pressed his back against the closest boulder. The water could come, he thought, so long as the shaking stopped...

There was a loud _pop _like a cork leaving a bottle of Champagne, and he knew that the falls were dry no more. Just before the water slammed in and tore him away from his stone shield, he turned his eyes upward. By squinting hard he managed to get the outline of the still-descending plane down to just one, and he smiled sadly. _I'm sorry, Bruce. Timmy, Dami, Alfred...Bruce...I'm so sorry..._


	45. Chapter 45

Batman had been trapped in many varieties of hell before, but as he sat in the cockpit and stared blankly at a monitor he thought that this one might be the worst yet.

Eight hours had passed since he had watched his sons be taken prisoner and led out of sight. The feeling of total uselessness that had assaulted him as he'd waited to see if their captor would shoot them in front of him hadn't waned in the least, and he couldn't stand it. If he could just know that they were still alive, then maybe his stress would become slightly more manageable...

But he had nothing; no information, no plan, and no solace. They had managed to dig up more facts about Tracy Collins, but that wasn't his primary topic of interest. As good as it was to finally know who their villain was – and there could be little doubt that it _was_ her, not after what they'd discovered about her husband – it couldn't begin to make up for all of the knowledge that he was still lacking. _I need to know that you're safe, boys,_ he swallowed hard. _I need to know that you're alive._

The door opened behind him, and a moment later Robin appeared at his elbow. "No change," he said before he could be asked.

"...I hope I get to punch that bitch right in the face."

Normally he would have counseled the boy to redirect his anger into some useful activity, but there was no task to give him towards that end. Besides, he was rather looking forward to getting a few licks in himself if she resisted arrest. That being the case, he let his lips twitch upwards for an instant rather than launching into a lecture. "We'll get our chance. We just have to..." His teeth ground against each other. "...Be patient."

A short silence spun out between them. "...Father?"

"Mm?"

"If...if she's...if they're...dead," Robin spat out, "will you...couldn't we...?"

He turned to face his youngest straight on. "Couldn't we what?" he asked, one eyebrow lifting beneath the cowl.

"...Kill her?"

"No. You know the answer is always no."

"But-!"

"Damian," he cut the child off, "listen to me. I understand that urge. I understand it very well. But we _cannot_, we _do_ not, and we _will_ not kill. Not her, not anyone else. Not on purpose. Not even..." He had to pause and clear his head of the awful visions of death that suddenly assaulted him. "...Not even if she's killed them."

"Do you really think you'll be able to stop yourself in that situation?"

The query was made in a tone of mingled disbelief and awe that Batman wasn't sure he'd ever heard from the youth before. "I don't have a choice," he explained slowly, speaking as much to himself as to Robin. "Even if the moral question of killing wasn't a factor, there would still be her value as a prisoner to take into consideration. She possesses scientific and technical knowledge that could change the world. Beyond that, she may well be the only person who knows where all of the quakes are planned for. If that's the case, and if there's hardware involved, we need to know. It would be foolish to leave her system in place for the next person who comes along with a seismology fetish. For those reasons," he sighed, "I will _have_ to control myself, even if...even if they are beyond our help."

"...You really _do_ want to kill her, though, don't you?"

"Robin..." _Yes, yes_, the beastly part of his mind cried out for blood. _Her death will throw at least a faint glow of justice over the stacks of bodies she has amassed!_ _"...S_uffice it to say that it would be in her best interest to give up without a fight."

Flash's head poked around the door. "Superman's here."

"Does he have news?" Batman inquired.

"I don't think so. I think he just came by to check in."

"No news," the Kryptonian called from further back in the plane.

"...Tell him to get in here."

It took a fair bit of shuffling and squeezing, but eventually all four of them were more or less inside the cockpit. "How are things?" Superman asked as he tried not to bump into anything important.

"Having found us in the same position where you left us, how do you _think_ things are?" Batman said flatly.

"Well, I figured you would have called if anything changed, but...you never know." He hesitated. "Would it cheer you up any to hear that the evacuation is going well?"

It didn't cheer him up in the least, not when the only people he truly cared about evacuating were unreachable despite being right under his feet, but he gave a vague nod of his head anyway. "Good."

"We're expecting it any time within the next few hours," the visitor went on. "The quake, I mean. We're trying to evacuate the next few locations in the pattern, too, but it's tricky. Europe's been a hassle; I buried everything, but we're still having to monitor potential escape routes for fallout. We've had to divert a couple of times already, and believe me, that's a nightmare...Batman?" A frown entered his voice. "Batman, are you-"

"Shut up," he hissed, riveted to the screen that had spent the last third of a day making his brain numb. "Something's happening."

The others made a rush to see, but it was pointless in their cramped quarters. "Damn it," Robin, who was closest to him, muttered. "...Don't move," the boy ordered, and a second later Batman was bearing his youngest's weight on one knee.

"Aw-" Flash began to tease.

"Shut up!" both of the seated figures snapped.

No one spoke. "...Could you at least tell us what's going on, since we can't see the monitor?" Superman requested eventually.

"Dr. Collins is at the mouth of the cave. She looks like she's limping." While it was possible that she'd been hurt in any number of ways, he chose to take her injury as a sign that his sons were alive and fighting. _That's my boys,_ he crowed to himself. _Take her down...take her down __hard__..._

The woman minced her way back down the same path she'd pushed Dick and Tim up earlier. _Fall, you bitch,_ an unbidden thought rose in the watching man's mind. _Just fall and end this. _Tim could get the force field down without her, he was sure, and if she fell now no one could blame themselves for her demise. His children would be safe, as would the rest of the world, and the uncertainty he felt about his answer to Damian's question – _do you really think you'll be able to stop yourself? _– would quit haunting him.

She reached the base of the cliff just as Robin gasped and pointed at something higher on the screen. "It's Dick!" he exclaimed.

Batman had to bite back a shaking, tearful smile. _Dicky...chum...careful!_ He winced as the man at the top of the stairs nearly took a tumble. _Just a little while longer, kiddo. Just stay alive a little while longer, and I'll be able to get to you...everything will be okay…_

If Dick was out and chasing the scientist, he could only imagine that Tim was inside and working on the force field. "Be prepared for the field to give out at any time," he warned as he flipped several switches on the dash. "I'm redirecting the engines so that we'll begin to descend the moment it goes."

They waited eagerly, ready for something to happen, but nothing did. Minutes passed as Dick navigated the ragged staircase and then set off after Collins, who had zeroed in on the bag Tim had been forced to abandon. _What the hell is she looking for? _Batman puzzled as she flung items left and right.

A hard bump drew his attention momentarily away from the action below. "What was that?" Flash asked, grabbing the back of the pilot's chair in order to keep his balance.

A glance at the altimeter made his heart soar. "We're descending. The force field is down."

The cockpit filled with more cheering than it seemed could possibly come from a mere three throats. Listening to them, Batman felt a smirk cross his face. _On my way, boys. Almost there now..._

On the ground, though, the situation was worsening. "She's got a knife," he shared grimly when Collins straightened with a blade in her hand.

"Don't go closer, Grayson, you idiot!" Robin shouted in his lap as the other two quieted. "That's just _dumb_!"

As if he'd heard his little brother's imperative, Dick stopped. He appeared to be speaking to the woman who was now stumbling back towards him, but there was no sign that his words were doing any good. On and on she came until, without warning, they both collapsed.

"What...?" Damian frowned up at him. "What happened?"

"I don't know," he shook his head. Collins rose, then dropped once more. "An aftershock, maybe," he hypothesized, "or..." His eyes went wide behind their lenses. _No. Oh, Dicky-bird, no._ There was no way he could reach him in time, he realized. They were descending as fast as they could, but they were still seven hundred feet above him...but it couldn't end, it _couldn't_, not like this, not when they were so goddamn _close_...

"Batman, what is it?!" Robin pestered.

"It's the river," he choked out, his throat almost too tight for speech. "The log jam, and the force field...all of the water that was dammed up is coming back into the channel." There was only one thing in the world that might be fast enough to keep Dick from being smashed into pieces and drowned now. "...Clark," he turned desperately to Superman. "Please, Clark...save my son."

The Kryptonian's jaw dropped. Before his expression of shock could fully form, though, he'd vanished. There was a loud _bang_ as the exterior door in the passenger section was thrown open and just as quickly shut. _Please,_ Bruce begged silently. _Please__..._

Damian turned and buried his face against his shoulder suddenly, unable to watch. With a mild shock, he realized that the boy was crying again. _You shouldn't be here for this,_ he lamented as he squeezed him. _Dick wouldn't want you to see this, and neither do I. I'm sorry, son...I'm so sorry._

A blue streak appeared below, but it wasn't Superman. In the space of a blink Asperity Falls transformed from a dry drop-off to a spurting torrent. The basin below was scrubbed clean by the monstrous flow, which added everything in its path to its already impressive collection of debris. The entire valley shuddered, chunks of mountain sloughed off under the force of impact, and Batman closed his eyes as he felt something snap inside of himself.

_ No..._


	46. Chapter 46

"...Clark...please...save my son."

It took his brain, unused as it was to hearing desperate pleas for assistance come from under the cowl, a moment to process what had been asked of him. _The water,_ it clicked suddenly. _The plane won't get to him in time. It has to be me..._

He was slamming the exterior door shut a bare second later. Surveying the world below, he found that it was shaking too violently for him to be certain of what was rock and what was Dick. He shook his head and fell into a swift dive, aiming for the general area he'd last seen his target in. He could fine-tune his flight as he got closer to the ground and things became clearer, he told himself; all he had to do was beat the river.

Halfway down, though, he realized that that wasn't going to happen. In the space of the two heartbeats that had passed since he'd sped from the cockpit a million gallons of water had exploded over the top of the falls. Behind that vanguard were billions of gallons more, all racing to catch up. Dick might have been hunched at the far end of the once-peaceful pool below the wave, but it wasn't enough distance to give Superman the edge he needed. _Bruce...I can't...there's no way..._

There was no way, but he had to try. He pushed as hard as he could, straining to defy the physics at work a mere three, then two, then one hundred feet away. Despite his best efforts the wave blasted by, scouring clean the spot he'd been headed for. It slammed explosively into the surrounding cliffs, then swirled in a deadly whirlpool before roaring away down the narrow river corridor. Massive chunks of mountain went with it, turning the once-crystalline flow brown with mud.

Forced to stop short lest he be washed away, Superman hovered helplessly for a moment and measured the damage. No human, surely, could survive an assault that had the earth itself shrieking and thrashing. _Dick...no..._ His tear-dampened eyes followed the rampaging flood. Then they narrowed, the pain in them fleeing before a bolt of determined denial. _No. No, damn it, not like this._

He took off again, now flying mere feet above the roiling deluge. Straight lines were impossible, as he had to weave and duck around the broken trees and house-sized boulders being borne along by the liquid locomotive. His x-ray vision was useless in such a fast-changing field, and he was wincing from the cacophony of destruction even without turning on his super-hearing. The only things he could rely on were speed, luck, and the stubborn survival instinct that his surrogate nephew had evinced since the first day they'd met. He just hoped that the trifecta would be enough.

A flail of movement caught his eye, sending a shock of joy through him. It faded an instant later when he discovered that he was looking at a soaked sheep. The animal tumbled along, vanishing under the surface and then popping back up, _baa_ing in panic as it went. He stared, horrified but unable to look away, as the creature was thrown into a jutting section of the canyon wall. A smear of blood was all it left behind as it slipped permanently below the water. In a moment the meager marker had been erased, and it was as if nothing of interest had happened there at all.

Superman shuddered, all too well aware that Dick might have already met the same fate. Shoving the rising fear in his chest down as far as he could, he resumed his scanning.

The younger man would try to get to a bank or an eddy in normal circumstances, he was sure, but since there were none of those to be had his best bet would be to climb on top of something stable and hold tight. The further he traveled, though, the more likely he was to be crushed, impaled, pinned, or dragged under by the debris choking the water. _I've already gone almost a mile,_ the Kryptonian gulped. _What...what are the odds...?_

But then, he reminded himself, he hadn't expected either Dick or Tim to have even survived the initial earthquake. Not only had they done that, they'd then navigated twisted, dangerous terrain with little equipment and almost no guidance, penetrated the villain's lair, and taken down the force field that the entire rest of the JLA couldn't make a dent in. If they could do that, he strained his eyes harder, then he couldn't give up on them now, no matter _what_ the odds were.

A few hundred yards later his pep talk paid off. There, clinging one-handed to the trunk of a massive tree whose ends had been splintered during its journey downstream, was a human figure. "Dick!" Superman shouted as he changed course to go after him. "Hold on!"

He could only fly so fast in such a tight, obstacle-laden area, but he pushed the limits of safety as he pelted towards his quarry. It had been obvious even from a distance that the injured man's grip on his lifeline was weak, but Clark still wasn't prepared to see him slip beneath the frothing waves when they were mere inches apart. "No!" he bellowed, and dove after him.

There was no light in the thick, turbulent soup he'd plunged into, and he had no option but to view the world in x-ray. So many distractions presented themselves that the power only let him see a few feet ahead. It was enough, though; he'd been close enough to Dick when he went under that he just needed to grope a bit in the right direction to find him. _Gotcha,_ he half-sobbed as he yanked him in and tried to shield him from the organic shrapnel all around. _Just hold on._..

He saw the boulder coming at them in the nick of time. Turning, he took the full force of it with his own back. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but he shook it off with the knowledge that the rock would have flattened the man in his arms if he'd been a moment or two later. He took off before anything else could endanger the limp form he held, speeding up and away from the torrent of death. _Okay,_ he sighed once they were airborne. _We're okay now... _

Deciding that he'd better make sure of that fact before he went much further, he landed in a quivering alpine meadow and laid his load down. "Dick," he urged, shaking him. _Not breathing,_ his eyes widened. _Please, no..._

A wet, gasping cough interrupted his nightmare. "Breathe, pal," he encouraged, slumping with relief as he patted him on the back. "Spit it out." He winced as Dick half-exhaled and half-vomited a profusion of watery sludge into the grass. There was a thin sheen of blood mixed in with it, he noted, but they could deal with that in a bit. For now it was enough that he was drawing air, albeit roughly, on his own. "Relax," he soothed, pulling him away from the mess when he seemed to be done. "Relax. You're safe now. It's okay."

"...Ugh..."

"Yeah, I'll bet." Realizing that the body under his hands was icy, he whipped off his cape and wrapped his charge in it. "Just relax," he repeated as he tucked the fabric in. "You're safe now. It's-"

A cry of pain cut him off, and he pulled back. "What is it?!"

"...Legs..."

A quick glance in x-ray explained everything. "...Okay," he said, returning to his patient's head. "You're going to be off your feet for a while, pal. They're both broken." He slid his eyes over the rest of him, searching. "Looks like you busted up your shoulder and a couple of ribs pretty good, too. Don't move," he held him down as he tried to sit up. "You need to lay still until we can get you to the Watchtower."

"Tracy..." For the first time since he'd been pulled from the water, Dick opened his eyes. "Get Tracy...can't...can't let her die..."

Clark was torn. On the one hand, he didn't want the younger man to blame himself if the woman in question perished. Besides that, there was a good chance she had information that they would find useful in more ways than one. On the other hand, he wasn't terribly inclined to help the person who was solely responsible for the physical and emotional pain that virtually every person on the planet had gotten a taste of over the past week. "Listen, Dick-" he started.

"No." Dick jerked his head back and forth a few times. "You've got to."

"Dick-"

"Ch-charity won't-t-t forgive us," the injured man pressed, his teeth beginning to chatter. "Sh-she'll hate him for it, Uncle C-clark, she'll _hate_ him. Give him a ch-ch-chance, ok-k-kay?"

'Charity' was obviously supposed to be a person, he puzzled, but while the name sounded familiar he couldn't understand what it had to do with saving Tracy Collins. _He must have hit his head on something,_ he frowned. _He's not making sense. _"I'm taking you to the Watchtower, pal," he made to gather him up. "You need medical attention."

"No!" With a wrenching motion that Superman wasn't expecting, Dick rolled a few feet away. "Go after T-t-tracy! I'll be fine here!"

Aiming to calm him down, he nodded. "I'll go after her as soon as I know you're safe. I'm not leaving you on a shaking hillside in your condition, Dick. C'mon, you know better."

"...Fine. But t-take me t-t-to the plane, not...not the Watcht-t-tower."

"No. You need a doctor. I'll tell Batman that you're okay-"

"Not good enough."

They stared at one another for a long moment. Dick was right, Clark knew; just hearing that his son was alive and in the hands of competent people wouldn't be enough for Bruce, not after a week of worrying. "...You're as stubborn as he is, you know," he gave him an exasperated but affectionate smile.

"Good. So...plane?"

"I'll take you to the plane. Just hold still," he instructed as he lifted him. "You've been shaken up enough already."

"Right...Uncle Clark?"

"Yeah?"

"Th-thanks for saving my life."

He squeezed him a little closer as they rose into the air once more. "...Any time, pal," he whispered, his eyes growing hot. "Absolutely any time."


	47. Chapter 47

Every minute that passed after Superman's departure was an eon in purgatory. They couldn't land thanks to the still-thundering water that was giving new birth to Asperity Falls, so Batman was forced to wait for news a hundred feet above the flooded earth. To his right, down the river and out of sight, lay Dick; on his left, underground and status unknown, was Tim. Only Damian was safe, but his physical health was all the caped man could guarantee at the moment; judging from the way the boy was shaking silently in his lap, his emotional well-being was very much under attack. "Hush," he soothed quietly, speaking as much to his own tortured soul as to that of his youngest. "...We'll know soon."

A door slammed out in the main chamber of the plane. All three of the figures in the cockpit raised their heads and looked at one another, their fragile expressions hovering somewhere between hope and disbelief. Then as one they rose and rushed for the narrow passageway, paying no heed to who they elbowed in the process.

Batman would never know how he beat Flash to the closed portal of the medical bay. "Keep him out here," he ordered as Robin hustled to catch up.

"You're _shitting_ me, Batman! My best friend is in there!"

"Yes." Bending down, he swept the sneaking pre-teen clear of the latch and into the air. "So is his brother," he went on, passing the struggling youth off to the redhead, "and my son."

"_Let go of me, West!"_

"Batman-!"

"Keep. Him. Out. Here," he growled. _I don't know what I'll find in there, _he gulped. _If it's...if it's bad...he doesn't need to see. And if it's terrible, then he doesn't need to see me, either._ "It's what Dick would want," he added, knowing it was a trump card.

"Oh, you asshole. _Fine_, I'll keep him out here. For a _minute_," Flash warned, his limbs blurring as he worked to keep his captive under control. "One minute, Batman, and then we're _both_ coming in."

His mouth tightened. It wasn't what he wanted, but it would have to do. "Fine." With that he flicked the latch, stepped backwards, and locked the door behind himself.

For a moment after he turned he couldn't draw breath. The body on the cold metal table was so still, and so pale... _No,_ his heart stuttered in his chest. _No, baby. Please, please no..._

"Bruce," Clark spoke, coming forward. A hand gripped his elbow, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the red-wrapped figure he had ached for for days. "...It's all right, Bruce. He's alive. He just passed out again on the flight back." The combination of that reassurance and a squeeze to his arm shook him partway from his stupor. "He'll be okay. He's banged up pretty good, but he'll be okay."

"...You're _certain_?" He didn't like the way the question trembled, but he couldn't do anything about it.

"Yes. He needs attention, but I wouldn't have taken him anywhere other than the Watchtower if I thought he was in immediate danger. You know that."

"I..." _Yes. I know that. _His knees tried to give out, but he caught himself. _Dick is safe,_ he wept silently. _Safe...but..._ A second face swam into his mind's eye. _Tim..._ "...I regret that the circumstances require me to ask a second favor of you tonight," he managed.

"...Tim?"

"In the cavern somewhere."

"I'm on it."

"Superman!" he called him back before he could open the door, through which the sounds of a fantastic fight were bleeding. "...Collins?"

There was no answer for a second. "She's on the list," came finally. With that, he was gone.

Batman reached back and re-locked the door blindly. Then he stumbled forward, stripping off his gauntlets and tossing them aside as he went. His bared hand hovered over his firstborn's mud-splattered brow for a long second, unable to make contact. "You can't be real, chum," he breathed. _If I touch you, you'll disappear. You'll disappear, and I'll wake up to find that Superman was too late..._

He could only hold himself back for so long no matter how deep his fear ran, though. Finally his fingers made contact and spread, ghosting over the pain-lined flesh and trying to wipe it smooth. _Wake up, _he begged, pushing back dirty, tangled locks. Finding a half-healed split in the uncovered skin, he winced. _Wake up. Let me see you..._

"...You're so good at that...always been so good at that..."

His eyes closed at the sound of his voice. "Dick," he murmured, his grip tightening possessively. "Just...hush..."

Faint, brief pressure was applied atop his eyelids, and when he looked he found that his lenses had been lifted out of the way in order to give the man staring wetly up at him an unrestricted view. "Why are you crying?" Bruce moaned, moving to brush away the tears dampening his child's cheeks.

"Because you are," Dick answered sadly. "I can't help it."

"Oh, kiddo...stop..." Mindful of the injury he'd found, he bent down until their foreheads connected. "Just stop..."

A long, private moment passed. Dick's hand slithered across his shoulder and under the edge of the cowl, coming to rest against the back of his neck. Bruce ached to climb up onto the bed and hold his son properly, but the weight of his alter ego held him back. He made do with cradling his head and stroking his hair, promising himself that when they got home and he could take off his armor he would provide better comforting. _You're safe_, a joyful choir litanied in his head. _You're safe..._

"...Where's Timmy?" was spoken finally. "Is he okay?"

"Clark's getting him now. We can't land yet, everything's shaking too much down below."

"Hey...don't be mad at him, okay?"

"Mad?" Pulling back a short distance, he frowned. "Why would I be mad?"

"Well..." A hint of amused color rose into Dick's cheeks. Amidst the pallor of the rest of his face the high spots looked like they'd been painted on. "He kind of fell for the bad guy's – or bad gal's, in this case, I guess – daughter. She's okay," he assured, "he got her over to our side without too much hassle, and she stayed back to help him while I chased her mother, but...just so you know, he's a little lovesick."

An unbidden rumble sounded in Bruce's throat. "If you're vouching for her, chum, then I can live with it. Even if she _is_ related to Dr. Collins."

"Tracy..." Dick's eyes went wide. "Did Uncle Clark get her?"

"...He says she's on the list. _Don't_ get worked up over it," he commanded, holding him down as he tried to rise. "He'll go after her once Tim is safe."

"We can't let her die, Bruce."

"I know, son. Relax. If she can be saved, she will be."

"It might already be too-"

"Dick, hush," he cut him off. Shaking his head, he ran his hand back through wet locks once more. "Just hush. You're injured, you're worried, you're exhausted – don't object, there are circles under your eyes – and you're freezing. I can't force you to sleep or to stop worrying, at least not without drugs, and I know you'll be upset if I knock you out before you know Tim's safe so I won't do it. But I _can_ insist on getting you warm and looking at your injuries, and I'm _going_ to insist on it. Understood?"

"...You're funny when you get stuck halfway between yourself and Batman, d'you know that?" Dick asked, wearing a tiny smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about," his lips twitched back. Fresh tears were threatening to loose themselves, bu he couldn't make them stand down. How many times in the past week had he felt certain that he would never exchange another word with this man, his precious and irreplaceable firstborn? And yet here they were, already bantering and teasing as if they'd just been in the next room from one another all along.

If he didn't turn away soon he was going to lose his last shred of control, and he didn't dare do that. It would only set Dick off again, and the last thing his boy needed was something else to worry about. Besides that, his minute of solitude was more than up, and while the flailing in the hall had ceased he expected the waiting pair to make an incursion at any moment. He could hold everything back a little while longer, he grimaced as he turned from the bed and slid his lenses back down. He didn't like it, but it could be done.

Dick began to shiver the instant he pulled Superman's cape away from him. "Here," he replaced it with a thick blanket that he'd pulled from the warmer. "Just give that a minute."

"'Kay."

The agreement was so pained that he flinched hearing it. "...Dick?"

"I'm okay," he ground out, his face pinched. "It's just that my legs have thawed out enough now that shaking is, uh, mildly unpleasant."

_Your legs... _Moving towards his feet, he uncovered him from the knees down. Massive bruises and the beginnings of lumpy swelling were visible under the shredded fabric of his pants, as was the end of what appeared to be a deep, nasty gash in his left calf. "...Broken?" he asked, glancing up from the destruction.

"That's what Supes said, yeah. Joy of joys. I'm miserable with _one_ broken leg, let alone two."

"Well, at least this way we don't have to worry about you trying to get out of bed too soon."

"Don't count on it. I still have arms, and we both know I'm a world-class hand-walker." Dick lifted his arms to wave them teasingly, but before he could be shot a warning glare he hissed and reached for his right shoulder. "Ow!"

Hastily throwing the covers back over his feet, Batman stepped closer. Broken bones were annoying, but fixable; joint damage was a far more concerning complaint. "Careful," he advised, taking the offending limb and lowering it carefully. "Where did it hurt?"

"It wasn't the actual joint so much as above it. I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting it..."

"It's fine. Relax, I'm not going to search for it now," he promised. "I'll leave that for after you've had a healthy dose of painkillers." A beat passed. "Anything else?"

"Mm...starting to feel those couple of ribs Uncle Clark mentioned, too."

_Broken ribs and two broken legs,_ the cowled man's mouth tightened. _So we're on full pneumonia watch. Alfred will be delighted... _If Tim's was this busted up, too, they were going to have their hands full. "You're not having any trouble breathing, are you? No tightness or sharp pains?" It wasn't too late to ship him off to the Watchtower if the answer was yes, and as little as he wanted to be separated from him right now he would deal with it if distance was necessary for his health.

"Nah." He winced anew as he spoke. "They're just annoying."

"...Are you _sure_ you don't want something for it now?"

"If I wasn't waiting to make sure my little brother is okay, I'd take you up on the offer. As things are, though...I'll wait." Dick frowned. "Speaking of little brothers, where's Dami? You didn't send him home after we saw him, did you? I know you were probably ticked that he took the plane, but-"

"I didn't send him home," Batman calmed him before he could get worked up again. "He's here. I told him and Flash to wait outside while I saw you."

"Wally's here too?!"

"Yes. I couldn't keep him away once he heard you were missing." _And I'm glad I didn't try to,_ he added silently, reflecting on the counseling the speedster had provided both him and Robin. "Are you ready for me to let them in?"

Dick studied him knowingly. "Are _you_ ready to let them in?" He held out his good hand. "It's okay if you need another minute, you know."

Gripping his fingers, Batman turned the proffered arm over, examining it. "...Where did all of these cuts come from?" _Tell me Collins wasn't slicing you up down in that cave. I'm having a hard enough time wanting her to still be alive as it is._

"I slid down a couple mountains. Figured you'd rather clean up my arms than my ass, so I moved accordingly."

The joke was so unexpected that it took him a moment to register it. When he did his laugh came out as a choked bray of disbelief. "Jesus, Dick..."

"Hey, I had to find _some_ humor in the situation, didn't I?"

"Yes," he nodded. "But then, you always do." Leaning in, he brushed their foreheads together once more. "...I'll get the others and see how Superman is doing with rescuing your brother." The latter was taking longer than he'd expected it to, but he kept his concern to himself.

"Then you'll come back, right?"

He turned at the door and observed him. _You're alive,_ he marveled again. _You're alive, and you're laughing through your pain, and...and you're just so goddamn marvelous, Dick. How could I ever think of staying away? _Letting his lips hoist themselves upwards into a smile that would be visible from the bed, he nodded. "Of course I will, chum. You can count on it."


	48. Chapter 48

Dick limped off in pursuit of Tracy, and Tim grimaced. After racing death over miles of jigsawed country together for the last week, he could barely stand to let him out of sight. Charity's presence beside him wasn't enough to keep a blade of loneliness from slipping into his gut as the older man vanished into the tunnel. If he hadn't known that Batman was waiting above Tim would gladly have waited to tackle the force field in order to assist his brother; as things were, though, it made more sense to do it this way. Despite that fact it took a great deal of effort for him to wrench himself back to the monitors. "Okay," he muttered. "Let's make this quick..."

Minutes passed, but no matter what he tried he hit brick wall after brick wall inside the system. "Fuck!" he cried as he was bounced back to the first step for the dozenth time.

"I'm sorry," the girl beside him whispered.

"...It's not your fault. This is just a good security system." _And I don't have any of my usual toys to make things easier,_ he added to himself. He knew exactly how many times over he could have broken through the field's protection by now if he'd come here as Red Robin, but all that knowledge did was aggravate him further. "Come ooon," he encouraged as he reached his last stopping point and took another stab at the password for the next level of protection. _Please. I need to get out there and help Dick... _"No! Ugh..."

"I wish I could help more," Charity wrung her hands. "I just...she never let me near this stuff..."

"Don't worry about it, I said," he snapped. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he re-entered the list of passwords he'd already figured out. The name of the university that had, most unfortunately, given Tracy Collins a doctorate; the little town where she had had her humanitarian epiphany; the relief organization under whose name they had been traveling when Jerome died. As he typed those and several other terms in, it struck him that they were all connected to Tracy's personal history – no one who didn't know her life story would be able to just manually hack the system the way he was trying to do. "Charity," he caught her eye, "do you know how many levels of protection there are to this?"

"She never told me anything," she shook her head.

"Maybe not, but did you ever hear her typing the passwords in, or even see her do it from a distance?" he pressed. "Do you remember how many pauses she made?" He knew his question was a long shot at best, since Charity hadn't been trained to pay attention to such things the way he and Dick had, but he had to try.

"I...um..." Her forehead creased as she thought. "I think I sort of remember...maybe...maybe six?"

"Six?"

"I'm...not sure, honestly. But...six sort of feels right."

"I'll take it." _Six. Six passwords. _If that was right, then he was on the last one. The problem was that he'd used what seemed like the most important pieces of Tracy's life story on the earlier levels. _This is her last line of defense,_ he mused, his fingers stroking the keys meditatively. _If the force field goes down, she goes down. Her final bulwark...but what..._

"I'm sorry," Charity lamented again.

_'I'm sorry, daddy,'_ the little moan of contrition she'd given before she told him everything he needed to know about her mother rang in his head. He frowned. Hadn't Tracy said that her whole project was intended to give her daughter a better world to live in? Sure, there had been a level of revenge and personal belief mixed in there, but in the end it had been the girl's betrayal that had sent the older woman over the edge. "Charity," he breathed, typing it in. A broad grin spread across his lips. "You're the answer."

"What?" Leaning over his shoulder, she peered at the screen. "Oh...you're...you're in?"

"Yeah. You were the last password. And now..." The dashboard was simple enough once you got past the passwords; now that he was in, he could shut the field on and off at will. "...We end this."

A single click was all it took. "Alpha sphere deactivated," he read the message that popped up aloud. "We did it, Charity. It's over."

She flung herself at him, burying her tear-streaked face in his shoulder. It was impossible to tell whether she was happy, sad, or both, but at the moment that wasn't Tim's top concern. He held her for a second, then gave her a squeeze and spoke. "...I've got to go help Dick. Are you coming with me? It's okay if you need to...you know...stay here until we get your mom secured."

But she shook her head against his neck. "I don't want to be alone right now," she sniffled, pulling back. "Let's...let's go."

Tim wanted to run down the subterranean corridor, but Charity had grabbed his hand and was trudging along at a much slower pace. Biting back his impatience, he tried to get her to speed up without saying anything or yanking on her arm. The method wasn't as successful as he'd hoped, but he hesitated to push her too hard given everything she was dealing with. He needed to help Dick, but he didn't want to alienate Charity in his attempt to do so, so he chewed his tongue and kept walking.

They hadn't gone far when a distant rumbling began. "...What is that?" Charity asked, stopping in her tracks to look around.

"I don't know," he shook his head, urging her along. "C'mon, we really need to keep going."

"I'm coming, I just...that doesn't seem like an aftershock, does it?"

"No. It doesn't. I don't know what it is. Let's just-" He broke off suddenly. _Wait... _"Oh, no," he breathed.

"What?"

"I...I _do_ know what it is," he gulped. "It's the river. I released the force field, and now the river's coming back in. Oh, god..." _If Dick's outside...if he went down into the basin._ Paling, he pulled his hand from the girl's.

"Tim, wait!"

"Stay here! I'll be back!" He took off down the passageway. For a second her pounding footsteps echoed behind him as she tried to keep up, but they were far from equally matched in the athleticism department and he quickly outran her. _Dick...climb, Dick. Wherever you are, climb._

The world began to shake, and before long he was more bouncing off of the walls than running. His body protested every jarring strike, but he pressed on. He and Dick had come through too much over the past week for things to end like this; he _had _to get to him, and fast, before it was too late...

When the deafening roar reached its crescendo, the lights went out. "Gah!" he cried out involuntarily as he tumbled forward. He landed without injury, but the air was now pitch black. Somewhere behind him he thought he heard Charity scream. _I'm sorry,_ he winced. _First I left you alone, and now the power's out. Some great rescuer I am._

He didn't dare go back for her right now, though. Sliding to the wall, he pressed himself against it and rose. It was difficult to maintain contact through the worst of the tremors, but he knew that letting go of the rock would leave him completely disoriented. If he could just get outside and make sure that Dick was clear of the water, then he could get Charity out of the dark...

The noise permeating the cave no longer rose, but merely rolled on at the same level. He tried not to think too hard about the fact that that probably meant it had flooded the pool, but images of his brother being swept away to an ignoble death assaulted him over and over again. Maybe, he hoped as he crawled along the pitching corridor, Batman had dropped him a rope, or gotten down to him some other way. Tracy would have been saved as well, of course, and secured. They were probably sitting in the plane and waiting for him. It would all be okay...everyone was fine...

An eternity went by before he saw a faint glimmer ahead. It wasn't much, but he'd take a sliver of moonlight over no light at all any day. Leaving the wall behind, he scrabbled forward on his hands and knees. Sharp rocks dug into the scabs over his joints, but he simply groaned and kept going. He could get help, or at least lights, before going in after Charity; that would make it all so much easier...

His intention was to go as far down the stairs as he could and wave to the plane, but as he approached the cave's entrance he discovered his folly. _It was hidden,_ he sighed. _It was hidden before, and now...now it's hidden again._ Indeed, there was a solid curtain of icy water blocking his path down and scattering the light from the world outside. He peeked over the edge and saw nothing but spray; to jump would mean death, and from the look of things the staircase would be impassable until the flow died down some. "Well," he spoke to himself as he glanced back into the shuddering darkness, "I guess I'm doing this the hard way."

Suddenly a new, throatier rumble joined the sound of the river. _What is that?_ he wondered, trying to stand up. He was thrown down again as the ground shifted beneath his feet, and only a combination of experience on roof edges and luck kept him from being sucked into the maelstrom far below.

"Tiiiiim!"

Charity's petrified scream reached his ears, galvanizing him. If he couldn't move forward, he could at least go back and get her. "I'm coming!" he shouted back, struggling to make progress. "Keep calling!"

He hadn't gone far when something tickled the back of his neck. Raising his hand, he felt dust. Somewhere up the corridor, a _thunk_ sounded. _...It's falling in,_ he determined, his stomach dropping into his shoes. _It's all falling in...Charity..._ "Charity, _run_!" he ordered at the top of his lungs.

Still he pushed on, groping through the invisible space before him. His feet found greater amounts of rubble as he went, and more dirt landed atop his head and shoulders, but he persevered. "Charity!"

"Tim!"

He gasped. She was close, but where...? "Charity!" he stretched out his left arm.

"Tim!"

"Aaahhh!" He dropped to the floor and clutched his arm to his chest. Her fingers had just brushed his when something had hit him hard midway between elbow and wrist. The limb was broken, he was positive; already he could feel it swelling up. "Damn it, why _now_?!"

"Tim!" She found him in the dark and latched her arms around his neck in panic. "What do we do, what do we do, it's all falling _apaaart_..."

"I know. I...I know." Grabbing her with his remaining hand, he wrenched them both to their feet. "We've got to get out of here."

"_How_?!" she sobbed.

"Just walk, Charity. Just walk. We have to move."

"Ok-k-kay...Tiim..."

"_Walk_, Charity."

Their walk was more of a stuttering jog, but it worked. Bouncing off of one another and the walls, they managed not to fall too often. The ground under their feet grew more and more littered with each step, twisting their ankles and tripping them up. Tim didn't know how many times he'd cried out in pain before he came into view of the waterfall again. "There," he panted. "There's light."

"Oh, thank-"

Her relief was cut off by the sound of falling rock from their rear. The air thickened with dust, choking them both. _I never thought I'd have a choice in how I died,_ Tim thought. Battered and drowned, he stared at the cascade ahead, or crushed and buried? Bruce was waiting overhead; if they jumped, maybe he would see...maybe, just maybe, Batman would swing in at the last impossible moment and save them. _I have to try,_ he gulped.

Dragging the girl with him, he took off. The crashing behind them grew louder as it drew near, racing them to the finish line. He ignored it, intent on his destination. _So close_, he ached as something scraped down his back. _So close..._ "Jump!" he shrieked at Charity.

Their hands were pushed apart by the pressure of the water as soon as they leaped. He didn't hear her scream, but he imagined she must have done so since he was loosing a fearful bellow of his own. It was so cold, and the rocks would be so hard in that first moment when he hit them... _I tried,_ he closed his eyes as he fell. _I tried my best. Dick...be safe. He's going to need you more than ever..._


	49. Chapter 49

He screamed as something hit his broken arm. For an instant he thought he had made first contact with the stones that seemed fated to act as his executioners. Then fingers wrapped around his wrist and yanked, dragging him free of the pounding water and up into the open air.

A moment later his feet touched the unsteady earth. He slumped to the ground as soon as he was released, clutching his damaged limb. Blinking water out of his eyes, he stared up at Superman's concerned expression. "Charity," he sputtered. "Get Charity."

"I'm r-right here," she answered from a few feet away, her voice trembling.

A single glance verified that she was no worse off than he was. "Dick," he demanded next. "Do you...is he...?"

"He's safe."

"Where?"

"He's in the plane with Batman. He'll be all right, Tim. Relax."

A beat passed as he absorbed what he'd heard. _Safe._ He shut his eyes again, gratitude washing through him. _Safe, and with Bruce. Dick...I thought..._

"...Where's my mother?" Charity queried slowly. "If you got Tim's brother, then you must have seen her, too. Where...where is she?"

The vague shadow that crossed the Kryptonian's face told Tim that Tracy Collins was the last thing on his mind. "I didn't see her when I was looking for Dick. I'll search for her again once you two are safe."

"We're safe!" she protested. "Go find her! _Please_!"

"You're not entirely safe yet. The excess flow seems to be tapering off a bit," he tilted his head towards the still-rushing river, "but that doesn't rule out additional aftershocks."

"I don't care! You've got to find her!" Charity tried to stand, but between her shock and the still-shifting earth she couldn't quite manage it. "I need my mother alive, don't you understand?!"

Superman's face went hard, but Tim cut him off before he could speak. "Her mother's all she has left," he explained. "...And Tracy doesn't deserve to die."

"Your brother said something similar, but I didn't leave him on the ground unattended to go look. I won't leave you, either. I'd never be forgiven, and with good reason."

"Superman-" _She'll never forgive me if Tracy dies,_ he gulped. He was the one who had convinced Charity to betray her mother and help bring down the system; if the older woman perished as a result of their actions, he wouldn't be able to blame the girl for loathing him.

"Then take us up there!" Charity interjected, jabbing one finger upwards. Following her pointing, Tim found the Batplane hovering some hundred-odd feet above them. "That's safe, right? Take us there and go look for her!"

"...I can't take you up there without permission from its owner," Superman countered.

"You took Dick, so why not us?" She glared. "Tim, help me!"

He grimaced, understanding the problem but unsure as to what could be done about it. Simply put, he and Dick were not in costume, and while Superman could be privy to their reunion with Batman Charity could not. "Batman's particular about who gets into his plane," he said slowly. "He won't be happy if you just...show up."

"Wait..." Her expression turned suspicious. "You say that like you know him. And you two aren't exactly acting like strangers, either." Her eyes shone with tears even as her mouth tightened into an angry line. "What going on here?! Why won't you save my mother?!" She directed her glare at Tim. "And _you_. Were you with them all along? Did you...did you just say all of those things in there, _do_ all of those things," her hand rose to touch her lips cautiously, "to get me to turn on my mother?"

"_No_," he denied vehemently. It was only half a lie, but it still made him feel guilty. "C'mon, Charity," he pushed forward, "do you think Dick and I would have arrived in the condition we did if we were part of some big plan to take you down? How would we even have gotten inside the force field? And if they," he waved in Superman's direction, "could get two people past your dad's shield, why would they have sent a couple of civilians instead of superheroes? That doesn't make any sense."

"But you _know _them!"she accused.

"Yes!" he blurted out. Superman shifted in his peripheral vision, offering a wordless warning, but he forged ahead anyway. "Yes, I know them. Both of them. So does Dick. But there was no secret plan to take down your mother. We just happened to be hiking in the area when the force field went up. As for knowing them..."

He gulped. What he was about to say would be pushing the envelope on how close they let their civilian identities get to their masks, but he didn't see any other way to calm her down. "...Look, I know your mom kept you kind of isolated, but if you know who Superman and Batman are then...then you've probably heard of Bruce Wayne, right?"

"Bruce Wayne is unavoidable even in isolation," she scoffed. "But what does he have to do with _anything_?"

"Well...Dick and I are kind of..." He trailed off. Charity had balked earlier when Dick had mentioned getting his money back for not being alone out in the wilderness as promised; what would she think once she heard that they were tied to a man of Bruce's net worth? Sure, the billionaire gave an excessive amount of his income to good causes each year, but somehow Tim doubted that would be enough for her.

"His sons," Superman finished for him. "They're his sons. Bruce Wayne has asked for Batman's assistance rescuing them from kidnappers in the past, and when he heard that an earthquake had occurred right under where they were hiking he requested help again. Once Batman arrived and discovered the force field, he called in the rest of the Justice League. Tim, Dick, and I have met before through Batman. As for them being part of any plan, while they both have a penchant for being in the wrong place at the wrong time there was no plot to take your mother down that involved them."

It was a perfect weaving of fact and fiction, and to Tim's relief it worked. Charity stared back and forth between them for a long moment, then shook her head in exasperation. "Fine! Whatever! You're Bruce Wayne's kids – which totally explains your brother's attitude, by the way – and-"

"He's _not_ like that," Tim countered. _How many times do I have to tell you?_ _Leave Dick out of this. You don't know him, not at all..._

"I don't care, Tim!" she shouted. "I don't care! All I care about right now is the fact that my mother is missing and your buddy Superman isn't doing jack _shit_ to help find her!"

"Stop shouting and he can call Batman and ask for permission to take you up!" The solution fell out of his mouth before it had fully registered in his mind. "I mean...couldn't you?" he turned to the Kryptonian, trying to make it look like he didn't know exactly how communications between League members worked. "I've seen you guys talk to each other before via radios or something, right?"

"Yes. You have. I can call him."

"So _do_ it!" Charity wailed. "My mother's _dying_ out there somewhere!"

For all that Tracy Collins was responsible for the deaths of more people than he wanted to think about, Tim couldn't help but flinch at the pain in the girl's voice. As Superman turned away to hold his conversation, he slid closer and tried to comfort her. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm trying, it's just that things are complicated when Batman's involved. Bruce really likes him because he's...well, because he's saved our lives more than once," he shrugged. "Anyway, I...I know how you're feeling right now, okay? I get it. I, uh...I remember what it's like, knowing one of your parents is...is dead...and waiting to see if you're going to lose the other one, too. I get it."

She blinked at him, then fell forward against his shoulder and began to sob. "I'm s-so _scared. _If mom...if I lose her...if I _killed_ her...I..."

"He'll find her," he encouraged, hoping he wasn't making a promise that was already unfulfillable. "She's got to be a tough lady to have raised you for so long by herself and put this place together at the same time. And Dick survived, so...well...there you go, right?"

"He says you can come up," Superman broke in. Charity didn't move, but Tim met the standing man's eyes. There was something there – compassion, maybe? Confused acceptance? Pity? Dick would have known for sure, but he couldn't tell – that made his guilt grow three-fold. _I made her betray her mother,_ he swallowed as he extended his good hand. _I had to do it, but..._ But even if she had wanted to turn on her already, which he thought she had a little, he had been the catalyst that pushed her into real action. _I gave her this uncertainty. I drew these tears. God, I'm an asshole..._

The thought stayed with him as they rose into the night once more. Charity's tears continued to dampen his shoulder while they flew, and didn't stop once their shoes connected with the mercifully steady floor of the Batplane. Tim patted her absentmindedly on the back once his unbroken arm was released from Superman's grip, but his eyes were trained on the closed medical bay door. _Dick..._

It opened as if on cue to reveal the person he wanted to see only slightly less than his elder brother. _Batman._ He had to bite back his smile lest Charity look up at the wrong moment and realize that they were a bit more than acquaintances. _We're safe now._

"Take the girl back to cargo and stay with her," a brusque order came from beneath the cowl. "Tim, come with me."

"What about my m-mother?!" Charity raised her head to protest with a hiccup. "If he stays with m-me, who will look for her?"

Batman's lips thinned. "Superman?"

"I'm going," the Kryptonian nodded. "Now that they're safe, I'll go. Tim..." He cast a glance at Charity, then gave a little sigh. "Good luck."

There was a gust of wind as he exited back into the open air, and then it was just the three of them. As much as he liked the girl holding onto him and understood her pain, Tim found himself wishing that he could shake her off in exchange for one of his mentor's brief-but-meaningful clasps.

Batman was clearly of the same mindset, and leaned back through the doorway to speak to someone. "Hey, Tim," a tired, paler-than-usual Flash greeted a moment later. "I see you're capable of standing, at least."

"Um...yeah. I am." Tilting his head towards Charity, he shot both costumed men a conspiratorial look. _Don't get too friendly in front of her._

_"__How_ many of these people do you know, exactly?" her muffled voice queried, dispelling any hope he'd had of her not noticing the speedster's hello.

"We've never actually met before," Flash filled in quickly. "Batman just told me who to expect."

"...Oh."

A beat passed before Batman re-issued his instructions. "Flash, take the girl to the cargo bay and keep her there until I come for her."

The redhead didn't look happy, but he agreed. "Fine."

"No!" Charity raised her head. "...I want to stay with you, Tim," she begged. "I...I don't...if mom...I mean, you're all..."

_All she has left, if her mother's dead,_ he winced. _I'm just a guy who's kissed her a couple of times, but...jesus. Who else does she know, really? _It was a deeply depressing thought. As little as he wanted to hurt her when she was already so vulnerable, though, he ached for a few minutes alone with Bruce and Dick. He thought he might not even mind the first thirty seconds or so of Damian's presence, if he was still on the plane and hadn't been sent packing back to Gotham. _I need to be with my family,_ a whine began to build in the back of his throat. "Charity-"

"He's injured and needs medical attention," Batman cut in. "You do not appear to require immediate aid."

"I'm freezing!" she protested.

"Then Flash will get you some blankets. There are spares in the cargo bay." His voice hadn't yet taken on the threatening tone it adopted when he was speaking to criminals, but there was a definite edge to it. "Go with him now."

"I don't want to!" she pressed her luck.

It was too much for the beleaguered Bat to take in stride. "I don't particularly care what you want," he rumbled. "Go, or you will be sedated and carried."

She sputtered for a second. "...Tim?"

"It's okay, Charity. Just...just do what he says, okay? It's usually easier that way."

A bolt of hurt flickered behind her eyes, but she didn't pull away. "...I'll see you later, though, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Of course."

"Come on," Flash appeared beside her. "I think there's still some food back there. I know I could eat, how about you?"

"I...Tim..."

"It's okay," he encouraged, gently prying her arms from around his neck. "Go with him. Get something to eat. I'll see you in a little while, okay?" _I know you don't understand, but I need to be alone with them. Please, just go..._

"...Okay." Releasing him finally, she shivered. "You'll come see me, though? When your arm is wrapped up, or whatever?"

"_Go_, Flash," Batman almost snarled.

"Time to make our escape," Flash advised as he guided Charity away. "Come on, you don't want to see him when he's mad..."

Neither one of the remaining pair moved until the door to the cargo bay had shut. Then Batman followed them and the bolt slid into place, locking the speedster and the teen inside. Finally, he stepped forward.

"...Hey," Tim smiled shakily as the gap between them closed.

Batman stopped one stride short and considered him for a moment. Tim suddenly found himself being pulled into a tight hug, one gauntleted hand rising to cradle the back of his head. The pressure hurt his arm terribly, but he wouldn't have dreamed of complaining. Instead he returned the embrace as best he could with his good hand, squeezing tighter when five words, husky with gratitude, were spoken in his ear.

"Thank god you're safe, son."


	50. Chapter 50

"...C'mere, huh?" Dick beckoned after Wally had reluctantly followed Batman out of the medical bay. "I missed you."

Damian hesitated. He had fought so hard for so many days to get into the same room with the man lying on the bed, yet now that they were mere feet apart his boots seemed to be glued to the floor. _What are you doing, you stupid baby?_ he lectured himself scornfully. Hadn't he battled Flash – and nearly won several times, at that – just for a chance to step through the door? Hadn't he then nearly torn his own muscles to pieces with the strain of following Superman's request that they sit tight and wait for Batman to emerge in his own time rather than barging in? Hadn't he hung back when they'd finally been given leave to enter, hung back and watched while the old friends greeted one another like brothers?

He'd waited long enough, _more_ than long enough, but he still couldn't move. The desire that had almost driven him to invade despite the Kryptonian's comment of 'you know how they are' had fled, leaving fear in its place. _Why did he have to put you on __that__ bed?_ he moaned. The blood-spattered hand that was reaching out for him curled back on itself in his mind, caught up in a sudden deadly seizure. He closed his eyes, but the body under the blankets arched up anyway, gasping for air that it couldn't process, then fell still. His father rushed back into room, and the same awful scream of denial that had woken him every night for almost a week rang again in his ears.

"Dami?"

Swallowing hard, he looked up. A curious but sad smile was waiting for him instead of the rictus of agonized death he'd half expected, and he had to choke back a cry of relief.

"Are you still mad at me, little brother?"

"...No," he whispered. _'I'm going to be alone!'_ his own voice echoed in his head. _'The way I prefer to be!' _"I'm sorry," he blurted out.

Dick frowned. "You haven't done anything wrong," he shook his head. "Heck, so far as I can tell you've been doing amazingly. I mean, you were the one-"

"For what I said!" he cut him off. "I...I'm sorry for what...what I said." Grayson still looked puzzled. "On...on the roof. Before you left. I...I'm sorry." He pulled his lower lip back between his teeth, unconsciously imitating the man before him. _I don't want to be alone, after all._

"...Oh, Dami," a tearful moan sounded. "Come here. It's okay."

"It's _not_," he denied. His mask was growing damp again, but he couldn't help it. "It's _not_ okay. I...I didn't mean it, Grayson, honest. I didn't..." There was a hiss of pain. Blinking his vision clear, he found Dick sitting up and holding his shoulder, a determined grimace on his lips. "What are you doing?! Lay down!"

"If you're not – ow – gonna come to me, then I'm coming to you."

"You can't come to me, both of your legs are broken. I heard you telling Flash." Nevertheless, the threat was enough to draw him a step closer. "Don't. Just don't." _You'll make it worse. You'll hurt yourself. I don't want to watch you die anymore..._

"I don't know why you're still over in that corner now that we're alone, Dami, but I'm not going to wait much longer to give you a hug. Especially," he peered at him, "since you're crying. That being the case, I will _crawl_ to you if I have to." Lowering his good arm to his knees, he swung one leg off of the bed. "Ugh," he groaned, swaying. "Blood rush. Yuck."

"Grayson-" _Don't fall. Please, please don't fall..._

"You know I'll do it," he said quietly. "You know I'll drag myself over there by my teeth if it comes down to it."

Damian did know, and that was why he was able to finally cover the remaining distance to his brother's side. "Lay down," he urged. "You're not supposed to be up."

"I'll lay down if you come sit up here with me."

"There's no room." _I don't want to hurt you more than I already have._

"There's room if you snuggle up." He felt Dick's hand run over the top of his head. "I know you can't say it out loud, but you want a hug just as much as I do right now."

A tiny whimper escaped him. _ I do,_ he confessed silently. _It's stupid and mushy and childish, but I __do__... _"Put your leg back up first."

"Help me?"

"...Okay." The flesh beneath his fingers was hot – too hot, he fretted – and swollen. He tried to be gentle, but the limb's elevation change still drew a fresh moan. "Sorry!" _I did this to you, _he thought, his stomach clenching. _If I hadn't told you that you were the only ones who could save the world, how much less broken would you be?_

But Dick just blinked at him. "You've said that twice now," he commented. "Come up here and tell me what's going on, huh?"

"I don't want to hurt you." _If I kick you on accident, or...or move weird..._ Hyperventilation, blood clots, and shock all presented themselves to his overworking imagination, and as much as he wanted to throw himself into those waiting arms, he couldn't. _I've already done enough. Too much…_

"You'll hurt me a lot more if you don't let me give you a hug. C'mon, please? I know something's bothering you, and the last time I checked I was the only known cure for the Dami Doldrums."

"...The 'Dami Doldrums'?" He snorted out of habit. "That's a new one."

"Yup. Made it up just for you."

_Of course you did, you sappy, wonderful jerk. _Somehow he got his hands to grip the edge of the table, and a second later he'd boosted himself onto it. "I'm up," he remarked, trying not to touch him. "Hey-!"

The protest was no use, as he was pulled sideways and into a suffocating embrace almost before he could finish voicing it. Not daring to fight lest he cause pain, he stiffened.

"You're not going to hurt me," Dick promised. "It's okay now. Just relax, little brother."

He couldn't keep himself from loosening under the man's ministrations. It was wrong, he knew – he should have been comforting Grayson, not the other way around – but it felt so nice that he didn't have the heart to try and swap their roles. _I'm a terrible nurse, anyway,_ he excused himself as fingers smoothed his hair. _And...and a terrible brother, too._ "I'm sorry," he murmured again.

"Stop." Lips pressed against his scalp. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"But I...what I said-"

"Leave it be, okay? You were upset. We can talk about it later."

"No!" Marshaling his strength, he pulled away. "I...I don't want to wait."

"...Is it part of the reason you couldn't come close a minute ago?"

"Um...maybe? Yes. I think so. I don't know." He couldn't look at Dick's exhausted eyes and pale skin any longer, so he turned his head away. "...I didn't mean it. I don't...I don't want to be alone. I don't really prefer that."

"I know. But it's okay; you're not alone."

"I would have been!" he exclaimed. "I almost _was_! The earthquake, and the force field, and the river, and...and here..."

"Here? What do you mean-"

"It was almost the last thing I ever said to you! Don't you see that?!" Damian pressed his hands over his ears, trying to banish the scream that had filled his head once more. "...What if you'd died thinking I hated you?" he choked.

"Noooo," Dick moaned, tugging him back around and into his arms. "No, baby bird. No. I never thought that," he crooned. "Never."

"But I-"

_"Never,_ Dami. I know better. Remember," his voice dropped to a whisper, "I have years of experience when it comes to knowing things that can't be said."

He sniffled. "...Father said that about you, too, more or less. But that doesn't make it right."

"Maybe not. But it doesn't make it your fault, either. Besides, we spoke after that. The last thing you said to me before now was that you would do good things and that you wouldn't forget that I love you. And that made me so happy, Dami. So happy. So even if I had died after that, our last words would have been good ones."

"It sh-should have been a non-issue," he cried. "If I hadn't...hadn't told you to go save the w-world...if I'd waited for Batman to t-tell you..." Raising his face, he glared. "You having last words to worry about wasn't s-supposed to happen! Ever!" _Don't die, Grayson. Live forever._ "Never...never ever..."

Dick didn't say anything to that, but Damian felt the arm across his back tighten. Pinned in place, he was forced to let his tears fall against his brother's neck. It was neither the driest nor the most fragrant tissue he'd ever been offered, but there was a steady thrum of life pulsing through it that he could hear if he turned his head just so, and that more than made up for its deficiencies. Reaching up with both hands, he clung to that gentle rhythm and let it calm his guilt and fear.

"...Better now, little brother?" came several minutes later.

"...Yes," he answered. He didn't want to loosen his grip, but Grayson really _was_ supposed to be lying down. Besides, the last thing he wanted was for Father or Drake to walk in and do something tasteless like take a picture. "You shouldn't be sitting," he said as he retreated a few inches.

"You're not going to run away to your corner and start blaming yourself for things again if I do, right?"

"No," he shook his head. "I...I'll stay here."

"Okay." He watched as the man lowered himself onto his back. "...I'm so proud of you, do you know that?"

"You shouldn't be," he argued. "How many rules did I break while you were away?"

"Oh, fifty or so, I'd bet. But I can chalk that up to extenuating circumstances, and," he winked, "I'll bet I can get Bruce to, too. Speaking of..."

The door had opened to let Batman pass through. Behind him came Drake, dripping and holding his arm but otherwise looking no worse than the last time Damian had seen him. Something the boy hadn't realized was still twisted in his gut loosened, drawing a frown across his lips. It was almost, he thought, like he cared what had happened to _both_ of them, not just Grayson. _Strange_...

"Timmy!" Dick cheered, extending his good hand towards the new arrival. "...What's wrong with your arm?"

"A rock fell on it," the younger man replied as he bent down for an off-kilter hug. "It's broken. How are you?"

"Also broken," Dick gestured at his legs. "Good times, huh?"

"Yeah. Marvelous."

Damian caught his eye as he straightened. "...Drake," he said, feeling uncharacteristically awkward.

Something that might have the beginnings of a pained smirk formed at the corners of Tim's mouth. "Hey, Robin. Looks like you're stuck putting up with me for at least a little while longer."

He felt his cheeks color slightly. "I...I guess I don't mind so much," he replied, looking away. "Anyway, it looks like you both made efforts to turn me into an only child, so..."

"Heh." His lips twitched a bit higher. "Yeah, I suppose we did."

Batman cleared his throat pointedly. "Tim. Bed."

"I'm coming," Tim tossed over his shoulder, then met Damian's eyes once more. "Stay over here on the flight back, would you? I've had about all the cuddling in narrow beds I think I can take for this week, but you know Dick; his tank is never full."

Seven days earlier Damian would have interpreted that as an insult aimed at both himself and the man whose heat he could feel against his lower back. Now, though, he heard it for what it was; an invitation to stick close and cloak his need for physical contact with their elder brother as taking one for the team. A look of gratitude threatened to break across his face as he nodded. "...I guess I can do your chores for you for a bit."

"Only until Leslie looks at my shoulder," Dick, who was beaming at them, put in. "Once I have two functional arms again you're _both_ getting cuddled."

"Was that a threat?" Tim arched an eyebrow.

"You know it was," Damian answered, suddenly feeling better than he had since before the other two had left on their trip. "Although I fail to see how he intends to carry it out with two broken legs."

"I have my ways," Dick promised. "Hey!" They all turned to see Batman pulling a needle from beneath his lacerated skin. "What was that for?"

"For you to go to sleep."

"What about Charity? And Tracy? We still have to get them!"

"Charity's in the cargo hold with Flash," Tim explained. Something in his expression raised questions in Damian's mind, but he held them back for now. "Tracy's..."

"Superman's looking for her," Batman cut in. "Now go to sleep, Dick. They," he indicated the other two, "won't until you do, and you _all_ need to rest."

"Alright, alright..." Yawning, Dick let his eyes close. "Overprotective dorks," he murmured affectionately, then passed out.

"...Do I have to sedate the pair of you, too?" Batman asked when neither Tim nor Damian moved.

"No," Tim shook his head and started towards the other bed. "I'm going."

"Robin?"

"I'll lay down."

"Good." The cowled figure considered them for a moment, then swung away towards the hall. "I need to make a couple of calls. You had better both be asleep by the time I get back," he ordered, turning off the light. "Otherwise, I_ will_ sedate you."

"Guess we'd better listen," Tim opined once the door had shut. "He's not in a joking mood."

"Understandably." A beat passed. "Um...Drake?"

The rustling coming from his direction stopped. "Yeah?"

"I'm..." He gulped. _I could have killed you, too. I could have killed you with that mission, and I don't even remember what my last words to you would have been. _Whatever they were, he was fairly certain that Drake would have died thinking that he loathed him. If they were all blown out of the sky on the way home, Damian decided suddenly, he wanted to be sure that the other male had a more accurate idea of how things were. "...I'm not sorry that you're not dead. I just...you should know that, that's all."

"...Thanks, Damian," a quiet acknowledgement came. "I'm...I'm not sorry that I'm not dead, too. Being dead...well, there's no time to try new things then, you know?"

"To...try new things?" He narrowed his eyes, puzzled. What did that have to do with anything?

"Yeah. Try new things...get to know people a little better...anyway. There's time now, and I'm glad for it."

"Oh!" He understood now. _Time for...well…time for us to not hate each other, maybe._ "Me, too."

The beginnings of an unspoken truce unfurled between them in the darkness. It was Tim who finally broke the silence, and for once Damian didn't find his advice intrusive. "...We'd better get to sleep. I don't want to deal with the wrath of Batman right now, and since you've probably already got that in your future you might not want to make it any worse."

"Yeah...I guess you're…ah…well, _right_." With that he curled up cautiously under Grayson's less damaged arm, not quite touching him but getting close. Things shifted about for a moment on the other side of the room, then ceased, leaving only the distant white noise of the jet's engines.

_...Goodnight, Drake, _Damian thought sincerely._ Goodnight, Dick._ _Have good dreams – I think maybe I'll even be able to, now..._

* * *

**Author's Note: We have just a couple more chapters to go now, and just a few more loose ends to wrap up. Happy reading!**


	51. Chapter 51

Batman knew that Alfred had likely spent the last seven days watching the news and lingering by the cave's phone in the hopes that it would ring. As such, he didn't bother to wait for a greeting when the receiver on the far end of his call was picked up with what sounded like an excited fumble. "We'll be on our way back shortly."

"The boys?"

"Are both alive and relatively fine." He paused, momentarily overwhelmed by how much of a relief it was to be able to say those words. "You'll want assistance on hand, though; there are a few broken bones to be dealt with."

"I'll call in our usual back-up. Is there anything else I should know?"

"...Extra pillows," he murmured, thinking out loud.

"I beg pardon?"

"Extra pillows," he repeated. "Across the hall from me. I expect that that bed won't be occupied by one person alone for a little while." It was unimaginable that Tim would go back to his own room straight off, not after he and Dick had spent so much time relying exclusively on one another for survival. Judging from the way Damian had been perched on the table in the medical bay a short while before, he would be sneaking in with his brother after bedtime as well. As for himself…well, there was no question as to where he would sleep best for the next few nights at the very least.

"I'll just pull them off of the other beds, shall I, sir?"

A wry smirk twisted his mouth. _You really do know everything, Alfred, I'm sure of it._ "That will suffice, yes."

"Very good. What is your ETA, please?"

"Three to four hours. I'm waiting on one more report before we leave, but I'll be at full burn after that."

"Excellent. I will see you soon, then. And sir?"

"Mm?"

"Thank you _very_ much for calling."

"...Right." He ended the transmission, then stood for a moment more, lost in thought. _I'm sorry I didn't call more, Alfred,_ he grimaced, _b__ut I didn't have anything good to tell you._

Shaking himself, he exited the cockpit and headed for the cargo bay. As he passed the door behind which lay three of his sons, his step faltered. It was aggravating as hell, he thought, that now that there was finally work to be done the last thing he wanted to do was attend to it. He'd ordered his children to sleep because they all needed it, and he ached to join them in dreamland, but he couldn't. There was the girl to be questioned, and her mother as well hopefully, and he had no interest in entrusting their interrogations to other people. They had nearly destroyed his entire world, and as such he would deal with them himself.

"Flash," he called once the door between the almost-empty luggage hold and the rest of the plane had shut behind him.

"Here," the redhead announced himself. "Along with Princess Speechless."

"A moment." A breeze announced the speedster's arrival at his side. "...You can go to medical again if you want," he told him quietly. "They should all be asleep by now – I had to sedate Dick, you know how they are – but I won't disturb you for a little while."

The answer to his offer came in the form of the bulkhead opening and shutting again. _I'm sorry, Wally,_ he sighed to himself. It had been obvious earlier that the younger man he hadn't wanted to leave his best friend's side in order to watch over the girl, but there had been no better option. _Robin needed that time more than you did. Besides,_ he added as he began to descend to the floor of the open space, _I could trust that you wouldn't kill her. _Damian, on the other hand...for all that he was doing much better in the life-taking department, his emotions had been high all week. The last thing any of them had the energy to deal with was Tim trying to strangle the boy for making an attempt on the life of his crush.

"I don't want to talk," Charity announced as he drew up to her. She'd been crying again, he saw, and despite being wrapped up in two blankets she was still shivering. "Not until I know my mother's all right."

"You'd be a fool to wait," he advised. "If she is alive, she'll be taken straight into federal custody. Refusing to speak now may entice them to arrest you as well."

She shot him a clever look from the corner of her eye. "How do you know that they don't already have reason to arrest me?"

..._All right, Tim, she's smart,_ he allowed. _But then you've never gone for idiots._ "I've been informed that you offered your assistance in stopping the New Madrid quake and dropping the force field. Given that and your youth, I doubt you'll face any serious charges if you cooperate. They might take you in for a short time, but at this point that would be more for your own protection than anyone else's."

"...My own protection?" Her face pinched. "I don't understand."

"Millions of people are dead and dying as a result of the earthquakes your mother set off. Even if you are completely innocent, you will be a target of revenge for some people." It was a harsh truth to tell a teenager, but it would be unjust to keep it from her.

She turned her head away. "So that's it? I...I try to help people – I _do_ help people – and they're going to turn on me anyway?" A beat passed. "God, no wonder mother lost her perspective."

For all that she was the villainess' daughter, her proximity in age and apparent intelligence to his own children moved something within him. _"Some_ people will," he stressed, allowing himself to play counselor a bit longer. "Not all, and not even necessarily many. Just some. The ones who know what truly happened down there tonight, though, will thank you. Tim is already grateful."

Her face softened at the mention of his name. "Did he tell you what I told him?" she asked. "I thought he might have, you know, tried to get me out of trouble that way."

"He didn't tell me, but," he spoke over the hurt look that twisted her lips, "I imagine that is because he was more concerned about his brother's condition, and thought he would have plenty of time to explain the situation down the line."

"I want to see him. I'll...I'll talk if I can see him."

"He's asleep." _He'd better be, at least,_ he frowned internally. "They both need rest. But I stand by what I said before; you're much more likely to see him again soon if you start proving compliant now."

She measured him with a long, steady gaze. When she spoke next, her voice shook. "...I just don't want to be alone, okay?"

It was a desire that he could certainly commiserate with, but there was nothing he could do to guarantee that her fear wouldn't come true. "Then your best bet is to talk," he reiterated. "But if you're not going to, I'm not going to sit down here waiting. I have other things to do."

"No!" she cried as he made to depart. "Didn't I _just_ say that I don't want to be alone?! Please..." Sniffling, she shook her head. "...All right. Okay. I...I'll tell you what I told Tim. Is that okay?"

"It's a start," he agreed. "...Begin."

Forty minutes passed as she let the tale she'd shared with Tim tumble out of her mouth once more. He didn't interrupt her, but he _did_ start the tiny camera in his cowl before she'd done much more than stated her mother's name. Even if he didn't end up turning the recording over to the police, he wanted it for his own records and those of the JLA. As she went on, his incredulity grew; Tracy Collins, it seemed, was one of the fortunately rare individuals for whom all the cards of supervillainry had fallen into place. The sad part was that her idea hadn't been a bad one until she'd turned it into a weapon and directed it at innocents. Sadder still, he thought as Charity caught up to tonight, was the fact that she'd wrapped her child up in her schemes.

His radio buzzed in his ear just as she started to tell him how Tim had shut off the timer and the force field. Holding up one hand, he silenced her. "Wait here. I may have you tell me the rest in a minute."

"But-!"

"You won't be alone for long." With that he swept away, marching back up the stairs and forward towards the cockpit. Finding Superman with his head in the medical bay, he stopped. "Well?"

The Kryptonian closed the door gently and turned around. "They're all completely dead to the world in there," he smiled.

"…Your phrasing requires serious work," Batman ground out.

"Huh? Oh..." He winced as he realized what he'd said. "Sorry. I didn't mean-"

"I know," he cut him off. "What about Collins?"

"Weeell..." His hand rose to rub at the back of his neck. That farm-boy motion of guilt told Batman that he wasn't about to receive good news, but he let the other man speak unopposed. "She could be dead or alive. I...I couldn't find her."

"...You couldn't _find_ her?" He gaped. "Between x-ray vision, super-hearing, super-strength, super-speed, and the power of flight, you couldn't _find_ her?"

"There's a _lot_ of debris down there, Batman. The interference is unbelievable. The river's running at about normal now, but it wasn't exactly a babbling brook to begin with, so that didn't help my cause any. I moved what I dared and looked through a lot more, but I just...I just couldn't find her."

"So we have a missing seismic psycho who hypothetically possesses knowledge of a system that could still be used to destroy hundreds of towns and cities, if not the entire world." _That's just fucking lovely._

"'Seismic psycho'?" Superman tried to hold back a laugh, and failed. "Been taking lessons from Dick while I was away, huh?"

"No," he retorted, in no mood for jokes. "I was interrogating Collins' daughter. I'm sure she'll be delighted to hear that her mother may or may not be dead."

"Look, I have others on the way to help secure the area. We'll keep looking once they've arrived. And if we can't find her...I don't see how she could have survived, to be honest. I mean, Dick barely did, and I got to him right away."

"Thanks for that image."

"...Sorry. It's the truth, though."

"Mm." As painful as such facts were, he couldn't be mad at the other man for not sugar-coating what had occurred. _He's safe now,_ he soothed himself. _Safe, and right through that door. Fast asleep..._ "Regardless, we can't take the chance. After all," he sneered, "you didn't expect either Tim or Dick to have survived just the earthquake, and you see what they did after that."

"I was wrong, Bruce, okay?!" Clark sighed, irritation plain in his tone.

"_Names_!"

"She can't hear through the bulkhead! Look, I admit it, all right? I was wrong.I'm _glad_ I was wrong. So glad." Reaching up, he gripped Batman by the shoulders and shook him gently. "They're alive, and they'll be fine. I did what I thought was best given the circumstances at the time, but as soon as I knew they were still breathing my only thoughts were for them. You know that. So _please_...forgive me, would you? I was wrong."

He had to look away to collect himself before he answered. "...I forgive you," he ground out finally. "But don't you _ever_ try and tell me my children are dead again unless you have the DNA-matched bodies to prove it." He paused. "...And don't ever have those, Clark. Don't...don't you _ever_ have those. Even if you do, just...don't."

The Kryptonian gave him a sad smile. "Deal." He dropped his hands back to his sides, and for a moment neither spoke. "...I guess we should tell her what I found, shouldn't we?"

"We may as well. I think she's told me just about everything she's going to." He let his fingers trip along his belt, checking that the extra dose of sedative he'd stashed there earlier was still present. If she reacted badly, he had every intention of drugging her; there was no reason to give her a chance to hurt herself or someone else. "You're taking her off the plane before we get to Gotham. I have enough to deal with when we get home."

"...About that..."

His eyes narrowed beneath the cowl. "What?"

"Well...I know Tim's going to be upset, but there's nothing I can do about it..."

"What _is_ it?"

"We've been asked to drop the girl – and her mother, if we can find her – off to the authorities in Chicago."

He relaxed. "I expected as much. She knows she's likely to be held for some period of time while her role in everything is verified. As for Tim...well, if the girl is innocent then she should be released sooner rather than later."

"And if she isn't innocent, you don't want him having anything to do with her anyway."

"Correct."

"...Do _you_ think she's innocent?"

Charity's pleading face rose in the back of his mind. "I think she's terrified of being alone in the world," he ruled slowly. "And I think she has some issues, trust and otherwise, thanks to her mother and the way she's lived for the last ten years of her life. But she's no criminal mastermind, and if the Feds handle her right she won't become one. Besides...Dick vouched for her."

"Well, that says a lot by itself. You know...I know you put a lot of stock in being a family of 'normal' humans," he drew quote marks in the air, "but Dick...I've always wondered a little. Sometimes he reads people _too_ well."

"It's a honed talent, not a superpower," Batman defended his son instantly. "And you'll keep any wrong-headed ideas you have otherwise to yourself."

"It was just an observation, that's all," Superman tried to placate him. "I'm hardly one to judge a person for having an ability that's beyond normal. Even if I was, there's nothing wrong with having powers so long as you use them appropriately. Anyway...do you want to get this over with? Charity, I mean?"

"...I'll meet you in there," he answered, stepping aside to make room in the passageway. "I need to take care of another piece of business first."

"They're all still sleeping. I can hear them."

He glared. "I said I need to take care of another piece of business. It's not your job to try and guess what business that is."

"Right," the Kryptonian smirked. "Sorry. I'll leave you to your, ah, 'secret task'." With that he made his way down the hall, glancing back only once before he disappeared into the cargo bay.

Batman waited until he was alone before opening the door beside him. Inside sat Wally, his feet propped up on a chair and his head leaning against the cold metal edge of Dick's bed. Dick himself was as sprawled out as his injuries and the smaller figure of Damian, who was curled up beside him, would allow. Nearby lay Tim, who had turned to face his brother and looked poised to leap up at the slightest sound of discomfort from that direction. None of them moved apart from their quiet breathing.

The man in the entryway smiled at his three. _Rest easy, my boys. We'll be home soon. And if you heard what the big blue idiot said about superpowers,_ his mouth went flat again, _ignore it. You don't need them; you're perfect just the way you are._

* * *

**Author's Note: I _think_ it will just be two more chapters now, but those of you who have been following me for a while know how fickle my muse is when it comes to that. Regardless, prepare for a bit more fluff before the very end. Happy reading!**


	52. Chapter 52

Alfred had had a youthful skip in his step ever since Batman had called to tell him that both of their missing boys were alive and on their way home. Almost bursting with relieved joy, he had passed the few hours until their arrival in shifting pillows, laying out medical supplies, and baking a fresh batch of double chocolate chip cookies. It was only as he was opening the front door to allow Dr. Thompkins inside that he felt his burst of energy begin to lag.

"Hi, Alfred," she greeted. Her smile buoyed him up despite the exhaustion he'd stockpiled over the last week, and he couldn't help but return the expression.

"Good morning, Dr. Thompkins," he said, stepping back. "Your timing is superb. I expect them back within the half-hour."

"I'm glad," she nodded. "Maybe once they're home you'll get some sleep. Don't object," she raised one hand to stop him. "I can tell you've been up fretting all night."

"...Touche," he gave in. _You know me too well, dear lady._ "I suspect, however, that my workload will only increase once they're safely returned."

"And you'll revel in it, because you always have," she teased. "Do we have time for a cup of tea, at least? I'd like to hear what they've gotten themselves _before_ I see their injuries, for once."

"In my experience, Dr. Thompkins," he agreed, "there is almost always time for a cup of tea."

He caught her up on what little he knew over a steaming pot of breakfast blend. She had been aware of the earthquakes occurring around the globe, of course, but not of Dick and Tim's proximity to the first one or of the JLA's involvement in trying to apprehend the responsible party. "...Those boys really do have a knack for walking right into trouble, I swear," she shook her head when he'd finished.

"They do indeed. Fortunately they seem to possess an equal talent for walking out of it, and thank heaven for that." Draining his cup, he stood. "If you're ready, we should make our way downstairs. They'll be here any time now."

"Right behind you," she rose as well. "After what you just told me, I think I'm only a little less anxious to see them than you are."

They stood in the hangar a few minutes later, waiting silently. Alfred felt himself beginning to slouch again, and squared his shoulders. _There's no time for that now,_ he lectured himself. _Later, when they're all in bed and fast asleep – __then__ I can take my rest, and not before._

At that moment the ceiling opened, revealing the late-morning sky. The Batplane descended swiftly through the passageway, hitting the ground with a jarring _thud. _"That was a hard landing for anyone in there with broken bones," Leslie winced.

"I'm sure he would have preferred to come in slowly, but it's broad daylight," he reminded her. "You ought to see him take off in such circumstances. It's absolutely hair-raising."

"I'll skip it, thanks."

"I don't blame you in the least."

The stairs unfolded themselves slowly, and he leaned forward in anticipation. To his surprise it was Flash who appeared first, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "Hey, Alfred," the speedster said as he joined them on the ground. "Hi, Leslie. Long time no see."

"Hi, Wally," the physician responded before Alfred could. "Do they need help in there?"

"Nah. Robin's not hurt and Tim can walk. Dick can't, but I'd worry about the sanity of anyone who tried to keep Batman from carrying him out. I only left early because it's cramped when there are five people in that little medical bay." He turned to the butler. "Don't worry, I'm not staying long. I'd love to, but the wife's going to have my head as it is."

"I assure you, Mister West, I wasn't worried," he answered. "You've had an open invitation to this house since you were twelve, and I don't imagine that will ever change. I keep your usual guest room ready at all times as a result, the same as I do with Mister Kent's preferred space."

"I know, but still...you're gonna have your hands full. I didn't want you to think you were going to have to try and feed me on top of everything else."

"Still insatiable?" Leslie queried good-naturedly.

"It's like Alfred said," the redhead grinned, patting his stomach. "Some things never change."

"Here's one such thing now," Alfred remarked as Batman appeared at the head of the stairs with a blanket-wrapped figure cradled in his arms. "...That can't be terribly comfortable for Master Dick," he frowned.

"He's sedated," Wally said. "He woke up when Batman came in to tell the rest of us we were fixing to land, but he knocked him right back out."

"If he can't walk, that's a good thing," the doctor opined. "...Looks like I've got bones to set in two patients," she went on as Tim emerged with his arm in a sling and a pinched look on his face.

"Yeah...they both got busted up pretty good," Wally winced. "To be honest, though, it could have been a _lot_ worse." He paused. "We got really lucky last night, on multiple levels."

"So it appears, Mister West," Alfred agreed as his eldest charges reached the bottom of the steps. "...Welcome home, sir," he nodded to Batman. "I assume medical is the first order of business?"

"Yes," the cowled man replied as he walked past without stopping.

"Master Tim," he smiled at the next person off the plane and examined him with a quick glance from head to toe. _Oh, child, your knees look terrible,_ he winced as he spied the thick scabs over both joints. "Welcome home."

"Thanks, Alfred. Hi, Leslie." He pointed after Batman. "Fix Dick first, okay? I can wait."

"Now how did I know you would say that? Come on." She offered him her arm. "You can at least let me help you to bed. Those scrapes look painful."

"Thanks," he conceded, taking her elbow and shuffling off towards the main cave.

Robin was the last one down. He glanced after Batman several times during his descent, then tried to rush past in pursuit of him. "Ah, young sir," Alfred stopped him. "Wait a moment, please."

"...Think I'll catch up with the others," Flash muttered, clearly sensing a talking-to on the horizon. "See you in a few."

"Can we do this later?" the boy requested impatiently once they were alone.

"No, I'm afraid not." He, too, desired nothing more than to follow the others; they were in no immediate danger, though, and he wanted to make sure that the youth before him didn't think he had gotten away with the misstep he'd made a week before. "Now," he knelt, "I ought to be rather miffed with you, Master Damian. I think we both know why." _You got past me, you devious little hellion,_ he almost smirked. While the others had all managed it at one point or another as well, there had been something about Damian's flight that had reminded him of the illicit escapes of Bruce's childhood. He didn't know what it was exactly, but once he'd finished being upset over the entire incident he'd found himself feeling a bit proud.

"...However," he said now, "if it's all the same to you, I'll settle for being glad that you returned safely and let the matter go. That is_ not_ permission to repeat your transgression," he warned as a look of disbelief spilled over the boy's face, "and I'm not making any guarantee that your father won't want to punish you for doing something so dangerous and foolhardy. Is that understood?"

"Yes," Robin nodded. "...Are we done?"

He arched an eyebrow. "I believe there's something you're supposed to say when someone forgives something you've done, is there not?"

A huff sounded. "Thanks. _Now_ can we go after them?"

Straightening, he clasped the child's shoulder. "...Welcome home, young sir. And yes," he smiled, "now we can go after them."

* * *

Tim was in a bad mood as he stomped up the stairs from the cave to the house. Superman had just brought him the first piece of interesting news that had come out in the week since the fall of the force field, and he was not happy about it. _She did it to herself_, he told himself as he closed the clock. _It's not my fault, damn it..._

Thunder rolled overhead, making him jump. "That's _exactly_ what I needed right now," he glared at the ceiling. "Thanks a lot."

"Master Tim?"

He lowered his head to find Alfred watching him. "...Hey," he greeted, scrubbing his good hand across his face. "Sorry, just...tired." It was partially a lie, but he couldn't bear to repeat what he'd been told quite yet; it was all still too raw.

Something flickered in the butler's face, and he was certain he was about to be called out for his untruth. Then the older man just nodded. "Understandable. Judging from the tale you and Master Dick spun for us about your adventures, you had quite a lot of rest to catch up on even without taking your injuries into account. I'm sure Master Wayne won't take offense if you don't wait for him to return from patrol."

"You'll wait for him, right?" It was a silly question – of course Alfred would wait, he'd been waiting up all night for Batman since before Tim was born – but he asked it anyway.

"Of course. Go take a little relief for yourself. Goodness knows you've earned it."

"...Thanks, Alfred."

"Not at all." Tim moved past him towards the foyer, but was called back. "Oh, and young sir?"

"Hmm?"

"Master Dick was awake about ten minutes ago. I'm sure he'd be delighted if you stopped in and bent his ear for a little while." A fresh atmospheric rattle reverberated through the house. "...Until the storm passes, for example."

Tim gave a grim smile despite his depression. "...Alfred?"

"Yes, Master Tim?"

"You're a genius when it comes to this family."

"Thank you," the Englishman replied, his expression flustered but pleased. "I do try. Good night, young sir."

"Night, Alfred."

A minute later he rapped his knuckles against Dick's half-open door. "Knock knock."

The man in the bed looked up from his book. "Hey! I wondered which of you I'd be seeing first tonight."

"Yeah..." Tim sighed as he dropped onto the edge of the mattress. "...How long do you figure I've got until the trouble child comes rushing in?"

"If he's already asleep, you might be good indefinitely. He can't be afraid of what he doesn't hear. Why, though? Is something up?"

He stared at his socks for a long, silent moment. "Tracy's dead, and Charity hates me," he breathed, closing his eyes against a sudden rush of heat.

"...Whoa." There was a _snap_ as Dick closed his reading material. "Okay...ah...when did all of this happen?"

"Earlier today. Superman was downstairs a little bit ago. He said they found her under a section of cliff that had sloughed off right before the river leaves the mountains."

"Down by the hover-lake?"

"Yeah. Down there."

"Man...that's a long way. No wonder nobody found her right off. But...what about Charity? Are you just assuming about that part, or...?"

"No," he shook his head. "I wish I was. They're still holding her in Chicago, so Superman went to...to tell her. About her mom. I gave him a letter for her a few days ago – I wanted to apologize for not seeing her again before she got taken off the plane, you know – but today was the first time he saw her since she's been in Federal custody. I guess she...she read it...and she said she understood, and that she wasn't mad at me. Then he told about Tracy, and...well..."

Slumping forward, he buried his face in his hands. "She blames us entirely. She said we should have knocked Tracy out better, or rescued her sooner, or...well, from the sound of it she said a lot of things, the most important of which was that she never wants to hear from me again."

"...Aw, Timmy," Dick crooned. "C'mere. I'd come to you, but..."

"I know," he sniffled, sliding up until the older man could wrap an arm around his shoulders. "Plaster socks."

"Right."

He took several long, deep breaths before a new voice spoke from the doorway. "Your girlfriend's deluded, Drake."

"Oh, damn it," he muttered. Depending on how much the boy had overheard, he knew he would be ragged on for either weeks or months to come.

"Dami, you were eavesdropping," Dick accused, his tone disappointed as the child entered the room.

"...I was trying to let you finish your conversation before I entered," he countered, a hint of hurt underlining his words. "I heard Drake ask how long I would stay away, and surmised that he wanted to speak with you privately."

"So naturally you listened in," Tim grimaced.

"How else was I supposed to know when you were done?" Something _plinked_ against the window, drawing the attention of all three of them. "...It's hailing," Damian observed.

"At least the thunder's sto-" The loudest _boom_ yet echoed through the clouds. Both Tim and Damian jumped. "...Never mind," Dick finished. "Tim, I don't think he was trying to listen in for a bad or mean reason. Okay?"

If he said that he disagreed, he knew what would happen; Dick would sigh, Damian would stomp off to sulk on his own, and he'd be left feeling even more rotten than he already did. Knowing as he now did that the child possessed the same fear of thunder that he did, how could he say something that might cause him to suffer through the storm alone? To do so would have been too cruel even had their tentative truce not held up for the last seven days. "…Okay," he allowed.

"Great. Dami, you want to come in? I've got two functional arms now, and I seem to remember making an oath to cuddle you both once that was the case."

"…You're still not supposed to be using it much," the boy corrected as he drew up to the bed.

"Maybe not, but I think a pulled muscle or two can stand up to a hug. Don't you?"

Damian glanced at Tim and muttered something incomprehensible.

"Okay," Dick allowed. "We'll find out in a little while, then. To go back to what you said a minute ago, though…Tim, I think Dami's partway right."

His brows drew together. "She's _not_ deluded," he defended her.

"No, but she _does_ have a few pretty important things mixed up in her head. Enough of that built up over time is pretty darn close to delusion. I mean…she really has no call to blame you for her mother's death. I understand her logic, don't get me wrong, but Tracy Collins made her own choices. We did everything in our power to keep those choices from killing her, and it's not our fault that our best efforts weren't sufficient. Heck, if it weren't for Uncle Clark our best efforts wouldn't even have been enough to keep _us_ alive. So while I'm sorry that she died, and I'm _very_ sorry that Charity's chosen to take her pain out on you, I'm not going to let her death make me feel guilty." The arm around his shoulder tightened. "…Don't let it make _you_ feel guilty, either, little brother. It's unfortunate, but it's not your fault."

He'd known all of that, but it helped to hear someone he trusted verify what he'd already been thinking. "…It's just such a shitty ending, Dick," he complained. "Millions of people died, hundreds of millions more are displaced and injured, the economy's – well, let's not even go there – and there's no one to pin it on. I guess justice was _sort_ of done, since she came to the same end as her victims, but…"

"It's not enough," Damian put in when he trailed off.

"…What do you mean?" Dick asked, taken aback. "She died with the knowledge that her life's work was being shut down short of completion and under the impression that her daughter had betrayed her. What greater punishment would you have wanted for her?"

"I don't know," the boy shook his head. "But for that many lives, and for what she did to you…it doesn't feel like enough."

For all that Tim fully believed in and abided by the familial 'no killing' rule, and as little as he liked to cause others unnecessary pain, he agreed. Putting such a sentiment into words felt dangerous, though, so he said nothing. Instead he caught Damian's eye, held his gaze for a second, and gave him an infinitesimal nod. _She __did__ deserve more punishment than the quick exit she got,_ he gulped. _…But I'm glad Charity didn't have to see her like she would have been, mentally broken and in chains. _

"Well…putting that aside," Dick frowned at them both, "at least we don't have a Schrödinger's villain on our hands anymore."

"'Schrödinger's villain'?" Tim repeated.

"I made it up the other day, while you were sleeping," Damian put in with a little smirk. "Is she alive, or is she not? Nobody knows until she's seen."

"It's horrible," Dick said, "but it's also technically correct."

"It _is_ horrible," he sighed, "but I suppose knowing is better than waiting around to see if she escaped and is trying to figure out a way to strike again."

A beat passed. "Did Superman say if they'd learned anything about the system during their excavations?" Dick inquired, directing the subject away from Tracy Collins' demise.

"It's buried under a mountain," Damian snorted. "How could they have learned anything from a pile of broken electronics?"

"Not everything was in the cave system," Tim corrected. "The broadcast tower was above ground, and they actually _have_ learned something about it."

"…Oh. Well, what was it?"

"They figured out how she was getting the trigger signals past the force field." It was a question that had been vexing all of them ever since they'd returned and put together a more complete picture of what had occurred, and as he'd expected it would his announcement drew looks of interest. When he explained that the top of the tower had been equipped with a small compacting sphere of its own which, when activated, merged with the larger field and allowed the transmitter to rise a few inches above the barrier, both of the others groaned.

"I can't believe none of us thought of that," Damian scoffed. "It's so obvious that the force fields could be made to merge."

"Well, none of us are super villains with aspirations for world domination, so…" Dick pointed out.

"Still…it's annoying that a lone geophysicist outsmarted all four of us."

"To be fair, she had a lot of help from her husband," Tim reminded. "She must have fitted the sphere to the tower herself, though. Charity said that using the dome for protection was her mother's idea, not her father's, so-"

The window rattled suddenly under a massive cluster of thunder. His brain clicked into a flashback, and he threw himself down on the pillows. _Aftershock,_ he thought, clinging to Dick lest they become separated by the shaking. When he came back to himself a minute later, heat flooded his cheeks. "…I hate that shit," he muttered, trying to sit up in an attempt to save the last shreds of his dignity.

"Hush," Dick ordered, holding him in place. "You're not the only one that got to."

"…You, too?"

"That was more earthquake than thunder, so…yes. On the plus side," he brightened, "I'm finally carrying out that dual-cuddle I promised."

Tim raised his head just enough to see Damian glaring at him from where he had dug in against their elder brother's other shoulder. "…I'm not a hypocrite, you know," he told the boy. "I won't make fun of you. Not for this, at least."

"…You don't like storms either?"

"No," he flinched as lightning flashed outside. "…I really don't."

"Which is why we're going to have the first ever Wayne Manor 'hide from the evil thunder' slumber party tonight," Dick beamed at them. "It'll be great. I've got tons of blankets and pillows, cuddles are on tap, and you just know Bruce will stick his head in later. Sound good?"

"I can deal with that," Tim yawned. He hesitated, then went for broke. "Damian? You in?"

There was a long, pensive silence. "…Yeah, Tim. I'm in."

Settling back down, he couldn't keep a smile off of his face. _He used my first name,_ he marveled. Maybe, just maybe, Dick had been right about him all along. "…Cool."


	53. Epilogue

_October_

Nightwing sat down heavily on a bit of rooftop architecture. Perhaps it _had_ been a bit too soon to be out and about like this, he reflected as his legs protested, but he hadn't been able to wait any longer. He had missed the cool breezes that floated over the city carrying the smell of the autumn harvest and the promise of snow. He had ached for the weightlessness of flight, that familiar comfort he'd known practically since the day he was born. Most importantly, he smiled as a shadow fell over him, he had missed his little brother. "Hiya, Hood."

"I see you're still alive despite your little hiking accident," Jason started coldly. "I would go through my spiel about this being my territory, but since you've heard it a dozen times before and still chose to ignore it I'll save my breath."

"Oh, good. That gives us more time to talk before you stomp away in aggravation and don't speak to me for months." He couldn't see the younger man's face, but Dick knew he'd scored a hit by the stunned silence that followed his words. "...I've missed you, you know," he softened the blow. "I was hoping you might come see me while I was stuck in bed."

"You know better than that," Red Hood found his voice again. "I have no interest in setting foot in that house ever again."

"You keep saying that," Nightwing sighed, shaking his head, "but I don't believe it." He paused. "You could have come when he wasn't home, you know. His work schedule hasn't changed."

"Oh, hey, there's an idea," was sniped back. "Then I would _only_ have to deal with Agent A, the replacement, and the little shit. Sounds like a really great afternoon."

"...It might have been, if you'd given it a chance. Anyway, it doesn't matter now, because I came to see you instead."

"Yeah, and from the look of that landing you made a minute ago you should have stayed home."

"It wasn't _that_ bad," he tried to brush off.

"You practically fell over. Does he even know you're out tonight?"

"He knows. He wasn't happy about it, but he knows. But you'll want to be careful, Jay," he advised.

"Watch it," was growled. "...And what do you mean, I'll 'want to be careful'?" Red Hood's posture tensed. "Did he send one of them to spy on you in case I decided to put you back in bed for another few months?"

"No. He wanted to, but I told him it was a bad idea. Besides, you and I both know that you wouldn't do that."

"That's a dangerous assumption you're making there." His fists curled at his sides. "Maybe I _want_ to kick your ass."

"It's not an assumption, and you don't want to hurt me." Nightwing gave his brother a confident but sad look. "The reason I know that is the same reason you want to be careful."

The curled hands relaxed. "...What are you talking about?"

"Bro, you asked after my health. You evinced concern as to whether or not Batman knows I'm out and about tonight. Both of those things tell me that you don't want me to be hurt. You'll want to be careful about that, because it's a contradiction to your 'I-don't-care' facade. Unless, of course, you're _trying_ to break out of that shell, in which case...well, you know I'd love to help." _Let me help, little brother,_ he begged. _If Tim and Damian can manage to get along the way they have these past few months, then anything's possible._

"Maybe I was just sizing up my chances of leaving you bleeding and alone up here," Red Hood countered hotly. His annoyance at having been called out was clear in his voice, but there was a trace of uncertainty underneath his ire. "You've made it abundantly clear that you aren't at full strength and that you're alone. I could kill you outright and no one would be the wiser for hours."

Dick sighed. "You're right. You could," he confessed. Reaching up, he raised his lenses and stared straight at those of the other man. "But you're no fratricide, Hood, and you know it."

"Really? After what I did to the replacement a few years ago, you still think that?"

"You didn't consider him your brother. You _should_ think of him that way, and I'm sorry that you don't, but that's the difference between him and I. That's why I can come here and wait for you without fear of injury, and he can't. As angry as you've been with me at times, I'm still your brother. As unwilling – or maybe unable, I don't know – as you are to say it, you still love me, the same as I still love you. That will never change, Hood," he whispered. "You'll always be my brother, no matter how little you might like it."

"...Hmph." Jason turned his face away.

A beat passed. "...Anyway," Nightwing said slowly, lowering his lenses again, "I didn't come all the way out here just to needle you."

"And yet," a sneer cut through the night.

"I have a favor to ask," he went on, ignoring the remark. "It's something I've thought about asking you before, but the timing never seemed right. After what happened this summer, though...you know all about it, don't you? Beyond the civilian stuff?"

"My sources are reliable. I know what went down." He seemed to shiver slightly as he spoke.

"Okay. Good. Well, I guess almost dying for the umpteenth time kicked something into overdrive in my brain. I just want to make sure that...well..."

"I have other things to do tonight, you know," Red Hood barked. "Are you going to ask me the favor, or spend the whole night waxing philosophical about it? Because if it's the second one, I'm out."

"All right, all right! It's just..." He wasn't going to like it, Dick knew, but he had to at least try. If he could just plant the idea in his head, maybe it would come to some sort of fruition when the time came. "Look, if something happens to me – if I die, or disappear, or whatever – just help them, okay? I'm not asking you to go home and have a tear-filled reconciliation with anyone," he clarified before Jason could launch into a vitriolic refusal. "I'm just asking you to do what you can in the event that I'm...you know...not around to take care of them. You're the next oldest, Hood," he stressed. "It's important, for them, and for you, and for me, too. So...please?"

"Nightwing-"

_You've got to try, Jay. You've __got__ to. _Stretching over, he gripped the younger man's hand tightly. To his surprise, no attempt was made to pull away. "You don't have to promise me that you _will,_ little brother," he pleaded. "Just promise me that you'll _try_."

Neither of them moved for a long moment. Somewhere in the distance a police siren wailed once, then ceased. A cloud ghosted across the face of the high harvest moon. Then Red Hood yanked his fingers free of Nightwing's grasp, turned, and stalked to the edge of the roof. "...I don't want to see you if you're going to talk like that," he tossed over his shoulder. And then he was gone.

To anyone watching from the surrounding buildings, the meeting would have appeared to have ended like all of their conversations did; Red Hood ordered the interloper out and stomped away, Nightwing gave a sigh and returned to his own business. Everything was correct and proper. Nothing had changed.

What no watcher could see, however, was the joy dancing in Dick's veins as he rose to his feet. His fingers were still tingling from the brief but firm squeeze Jason had given them just before he turned, and as he reached for his grappling gun a grin broke across his face. There had been no verbal promise of any sort made, but that bit of pressure had told him all he needed to know. If the time came, his little brother would try, and that was good enough.

_Two down, one to go_. _I'll have all of us under one roof together and not fighting yet, Bruce,_ he swore as he swung away. _Even if it's the last thing I do..._

* * *

**Author's Note: Here we are at the end of another tale, lovely readers. Thank you all so much for coming along on the ride with me. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have.**

**As I mentioned at the end of 'Camp Batman', our next adventure will be entitled 'The Silent Treatment'. After receiving several requests during the course of this story for more Jason and Babs and for an opportunity to see Tim and Damian working together, I have decided that 'Silent Treatment' will be a sequel to this story. Look for the first chapter on Tuesday, and prepare for Nightwing whumpage, mystery, and a fair bit of insanity. **

**Happy reading!**


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